That Fateful Night
by Heptagon
Summary: After the end of the war Hermione and Draco are looking forward to a life full of happiness, peace, and love. But one of them has a secret that has potential to ruin everything. Are they strong enough to overcome it or will it destroy them both?
1. 1 of 3

**Note: **This was initially an one-shot. Then it got too long and became a two-shot. Then it got too long again and became a three-shot. And a three-shot it is going to be. :) A rather long three-shot, though, I should warn you.

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**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter going once.

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**That Fateful Night, Part 1 of 3**

Hermione was staring at the mirror, at her own reflection looking back at her, clad in an expensive white dress, diamonds round her neck, and her curls tamed and up in an intricate hairdo. She knew she should be getting ready, but this was her last moment of silence before the horrible fiasco.

Maybe the word 'fiasco' wasn't quite what a happy bride should be using in reference to her wedding, but the way this week had gone by, in a horrible hurricane of preparation, she couldn't help but think that with so much worrying and trouble, something was bound to go wrong. The guest list of over 500 people plus reporters didn't help to calm her nerves either.

For the umpteenth time she wondered why in sweet Salazar had she agreed with having such a huge wedding. It had something to do with symbolism, that much she remembered. Something about the new era, the new beginning, the alliance between Purebloods and Muggle-borns, peace and prosperity. And also a great day for the media, of course. With all the attention the paper had given to their union over the past months, it was a crime not to invite their representatives. At least it wasn't Rita Skeeter who had come, that much she had managed to do.

She sighed, thinking about the chaos outside the room this very moment. The chaos which had fortunately required the immediate assistance of Hermione's three personal harpies – her bridesmaids, that is – and given her some space, and an opportunity to breathe.

Closing her eyes, she did just that, and opening them again, she realized it had actually worked. Perhaps it hadn't been her idea to have a big wedding, but it gave new hope to people devastated by the war, which had ended a year and a half ago, yet it took time to heal and recover; when everyone saw the symbol of new era, new beginning, and new happiness in it, then who was she to deny them that.

And in the end, it didn't really matter. As a little girl she had dreamed about her wedding, wearing a pretty dress and looking like a princess, just like all little girls, but life had taught her which things mattered, and which didn't. In the end, it was all about being with the one she loved, starting a new life together as a family, dedicating themselves to each other for ever.

That was what this day was all about, not floral arrangements and ice sculptures, or the pictures in tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

Recalling that, Hermione smiled, and the outside noise didn't bother her anymore. Even when the harpies rushed back, and started fussing around her, and reprimanding her for not being ready yet, she couldn't get neither the grin nor the dreamy look off her face.

"Earth to Hermione, earth to Hermione!" Ginny waved her hands in front of her friend's face, trying to get her attention, which she did.

"Can you believe it, Ginny," she turned around. "I'm getting married today. Sweet Salazar, I'm really getting married today."

"Sweet Salazar indeed," Ginny chuckled. "Believe me, Hermione, when I say that if someone had told me one year ago that you would be marrying Malfoy, I would have first laughed at them, then hexed them for talking nonsense, and then laughed myself crazy again. But here you are, sitting in front of me, a radiant grin on your face, a dreamy look in your eyes, happier than ever before, and not listening to a word that I've been saying because you are daydreaming again!"

She raised her voice in the end a bit, so that Hermione snapped out of her reverie.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, you were saying?"

Her redheaded friend sighed in frustration, but she simply couldn't get mad at her, not today, not with the this-is-the-happiest-day-of-my-life look on her face.

"Simply that I'm glad you are so happy," she said. "What were you thinking of just now?"

"Just remembering that fateful day," Hermione replied, but before Ginny could inquire further, a frazzled ball of nerves, also known as Hannah Abbot, Ron's current girlfriend and another one of Hermione's bridesmaids, rushed into their conversation, and started yelling about the bride not being ready yet, which of course alerted the other harpies, and together they all launched at her.

Still, even while being pushed and pulled this way and that, she could not get the memory out of her mind. The memory of that fateful night.

---

In another room, not too far from Hermione and her harpies, Draco happened to be staring at the mirror as well. Actually, in his case, he was doing more than staring – he was carefully looking himself over, making sure that he indeed looked perfect. After all, he couldn't let the Daily Prophet have him on photo with a single hair out of place. No, he was a Malfoy, he had to be perfect.

And not only for those 500 people who had all come to see with their own eyes the union of a Malfoy and a Muggle-born witch. Whose idea had it been to have a wedding this big, he wondered briefly. It probably had something to do with the pride and honour of the Malfoy name, which had suffered terribly during the war. It had taken much time and much trouble to convince both the Ministry and the society that they were not plotting a revenge for their Dark Lord, or planning to continue his mission. Draco would have simply sent them all to hell, but his mother had been close to a nervous breakdown at that time, and for her he was ready to work hard. And now, especially with his marriage to Hermione Granger, the Malfoy name seemed to be getting a bit cleaner.

Not that this was the reason behind their wedding. It was not a sham, although it very well could have been, and he was ready to bet half his fortune that more than just a couple of their guests did think so. Well, he sincerely hoped they weren't going to cause any scenes, and not just because it would look bad in the paper.

Because he had to be perfect for another reason; and for that today had to be perfect as well. And that was, of course, for his beautiful bride.

Never in a million years, at least before the previous six months, would he have expected to marry Hermione Granger, and feel himself the luckiest man on earth. But times change, and people change, and he was the first to admit it these days.

The months after the war had been the hardest for them. With Lucius dead and him on trial for the murder of Dumbledore and Death Eater activity, their future hadn't seemed too bright. Mostly, he was worried about his mother – should he be sent to Azkaban, she would be left all alone. He feared for what she might do with his husband dead and son in prison. Narcissa Malfoy was one of the strongest women he knew, but enough was enough, and even the strongest persons have their breaking points. He feared she might reach hers and do something stupid.

Draco loved his mother, and for her he was ready to do anything it took. Which meant he had to persuade the Ministry and Wizengamot to let him go, and like that wasn't hard enough, he also had to get on the good side of Harry Bloody Potter, the Saviour of All Wizardkind. Well, he didn't quite manage that, but Potter, being the Gryffindor he was and intent on speaking only truth, testified on his trial about that terrible night up in the Astronomy Tower, telling everybody how he had lowered his wand before the others rushed in. He testified that it had been Snape who had killed Dumbledore, not him. Of course, that had not been enough to save him from all the charges, so he had to do a lot of begging and ass-kissing (something that Malfoys never ever ever ever do), and spend a rather substantial part of the Malfoy gold to buy himself free.

And even then there were people still fighting for his imprisonment. One of them had been, as ironic as it was, his wife-to-be. Fortunately for them both (even though it took her time to realize it) Rome was not built in a day, and the Ministry couldn't be reformed under such a short time. It still remained part-corrupt, and there were still Ministry officials happy to let a suspected Death Eater go in exchange for a large sum of money.

Able to buy himself free, Draco could be there for his mother, and together they bore the scorn and accusations of the public. And together they worked to drag their name out of the dirt again. It took many efforts, and many drawbacks, but thanks to honest work, something that was quite new to both Malfoys, they managed to do it.

No, the Malfoys were not as respected as they had used to be, but at least they weren't thought as the source of all evil anymore.

Still, things had been hard for both of them, and Draco had quite given up on his personal happiness. He couldn't be the heartbreaker anymore because that was bad publicity, something they couldn't afford. So he had been simply alone, finding comfort from her mother, who couldn't give him all that his heart desired for.

He had been rather miserable, even though he tried to look happy for his mother's sake, until that one fateful night, when something he could have never imagined had happened.

---

The unmistakable feeling of another person in the room wakened Draco from his thoughts, which had been way too morbid for this pleasant occasion.

Raising his eyes he looked in the mirror instead of turning around, and saw Narcissa standing there, clad in beautiful azure robes that made her look young again, gazing intently at his reflection, a somewhat worried expression on her face.

Draco frowned and turned to face her.

"What's wrong, Mother?" he inquired softly.

"I should be the one asking that," she replied, tearing her gaze away from the mirror to look her son in the eye again.

"What do you mean?"

"You were looking so... gloomy just now. And it's supposed to be the happiest day of your life. But clearly something is wrong. Perhaps I misunderstood you, perhaps I rushed you too much, if this is not what you want..."

"No!" Draco cut her through so sharply that Narcissa flinched unintentionally.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I didn't mean to snap," he was quick to explain, his expression turning one of guilt now. They had gone through so much together, and she was the most important person in his life, well, one of the two now, and he never wanted to do anything to hurt her.

"That's all right," Narcissa collected herself quickly, noticing the look of guilt and horror on her son's face.

"You're just nervous, I know," she smiled, and his sharp features softened at that.

"I was just thinking, Mother," he explained, once the atmosphere had turned to pleasant again.

Narcissa didn't need to ask what he had been thinking about. All the past was still fresh in their minds, but she tried not to think about it as things were finally looking good for them. The Malfoy name was in good respect once again; but actually she couldn't have cared any less about some silly name, just as long as her son was happy.

It is every mother's deepest wish to see their child happy, and finally her wish had come true.

Glancing at her son, she noticed him deep in thought once again, but judging by the smile on his lips, those memories were good.

And once again, she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

---

It had been a cool and rainy evening, and the Manor had been especially gloomy. They had been sitting together in Lucius' old study, Draco at the table going over some figures about their business, and her sipping red wine in front of the fireplace.

It was their usual place of residence, escaping the rest of the empty Manor which suddenly had seemed too big and void for the mother and son. Which was odd because during the war she had often been there all alone, while Draco was at Hogwarts and Lucius away with the Dark Lord or in Azkaban; and at those times she had rather found comfort in these rooms and hallways where she had once been happy. But now it was cold and big and empty, and they had taken refuge in the only place which seemed to give at least some kind of comfort and warmth, and that was her dead husband's study.

But that night it seemed that the coldness had finally swept in there as well, and she couldn't help but shiver, despite the warm fire.

Behind her Draco had let out a long sigh, just a second before the loud chime of the bells rang through the empty hallways and reached their hearing, starting them both out of their lonely gloominess.

"Who the hell comes ringing that late in the evening," had been Draco's reaction to the doorbell, and had she not insisted, he might have simply ignored it. But as it was, he grumpily summoned a house-elf and told it to get the door.

The following minutes were filled with tension and curiosity, and it seemed like hours before the elf came back to announce their visitor. It never made that far, however, since the said person thought it better to open the door without knocking and simply march inside, before anyone had the chance to reject her.

And just like that, Hermione Granger had marched into Lucius' study on that fateful night, into the company of the last two Malfoys, and even though she hadn't known it at the time, into Draco's life for good.

---

Hermione chuckled, making Angelina's hand stray from its path as it had been applying lip-gloss to her lips.

"Look what you did now!" the girl exclaimed, being not much calmer than Hannah. "Stay still, or you will ruin everything."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione ignored her fussing, but forced her smile away, hard as it was when thinking back to Draco's reaction when she had simply walked into his room quite uninvited on that fateful night.

---

Hermione had never seen Malfoy quite this shocked and speechless ever before, not even when she had slapped him in their third year at Hogwarts. His jaw was open and he was staring at her, looking rather stupid.

In fact, it took him so much time to collect himself that Narcissa had taken the situation into her own hands.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," she had spoken politely, though rather coldly. "What can we do for you today?"

Hermione turned to face the older Malfoy, rather relieved at that change of events. Coming here she had had no idea what to expect, but the possibility of Malfoy yelling at her and throwing her out of the house seemed rather plausible. But now that Narcissa was here, and being rather polite, perhaps things would go a bit better, although she still thought it too early to get her hopes up.

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy," she smiled at her. "I'm sorry to bother you this late, I know it's not appropriate. And I'm sorry for barging in here just like this, I was afraid you might not receive me otherwise."

"Now why would you think something like that, Granger," Draco had muttered sarcastically, but fell silent at the look his mother gave him.

Oh, yes, they were reformed now. They were nice people now. Which meant they had to be nice to those who won that stupid war, and that also meant stupid Mudbloods like Granger.

"I'm sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have come," she hesitated, but as no one said anything at that, and she realized she really had no hope of getting any reassurance from these people, Hermione gathered her courage together and said what she had come to say.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she nodded at her and turned to Draco, hesitating for a second about what to call him, "Malfoy. I came here to apologize."

"For what?" he had been far too surprised again to hold back. Granger never apologized, least to his kind. Besides, she hated him. She had fought very hard to throw him into prison.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize your try to start over. I'm sorry I tried to stop you, I'm sorry I tried to put you to Azkaban. I'm sorry I was still petty and revengeful and stuck in the past to not let you have a second chance, something we all deserve. I'm sorry I tried to ruin your life, both of your lives. It was very cruel of me."

She had lowered her head and was now staring at the deep green carpet on the floor, waiting for their reaction. None came. Looking up she saw Narcissa's cold and contemplative glance on her, and fought back a shudder.

"That's very considerate of you to come and tell us that, Granger," Draco spoke after a while. "But we don't need your pity, Granger. In fact, we need nothing from you. You tried to fight against us and you lost. Just face it, Granger, a filthy Mudblood like you is no match to the likes of us!"

"Draco!" Narcissa had gasped at that.

"Don't worry, Mother, she wouldn't dare anything. Because if you do, Granger, then I will make you regret it. I let you get away the first time, for I didn't want to get my hands dirty dealing with you, but if you try anything again, you will not escape that easily. Now get out of my sight and my house, Mudblood!"

"Draco!" Narcissa had scolded again, this time a lot louder and angrier.

"I will not let you act like this in front of my own eyes," she continued, still in that angry tone. "What Miss Granger said was right – we have been given a second chance and I will not let you ruin this. You be nice to her, and apologize right now, or I'll throw you out of the house, which, as you might remember, still belongs to me."

---

"I sometimes think I was too harsh on you that day," Narcissa commented with a mischievous smile.

"You think? You threatened to throw me out of the house, Mother!"

"An empty threat," she waved with her hand. "You knew I would never do that. But you were acting horrible. All the awful things you said to poor Hermione."

"She won't be poor for much longer," he said with a smirk but then turned serious. "I really hated her in that moment, and I still think I had every right to. You remember what it was for us, those months after the war, how I finally managed to escape Azkaban, and then had to deal with it all over again."

Narcissa nodded pensively. She remembered all that too well.

"You don't feel like that anymore?" she asked after a while.

"Mother!" he sounded hurt. "You know I do not. You know I love her with all my heart and soul, with every fiber, every cell in my body, with every thought in my mind. I love her more than life. More than anything else in this world."

"More than me?"

"Mother!" he said again, this time frustrated. "You know that... everything we have been through together..."

But Narcissa laughed, and shook her head.

"Don't lie to me, Draco. I know you do. And I wouldn't want it any other way. It's every mother's deepest wish to see their child happy, and seeing you talking like that, proclaiming your love for her so proudly, with such feeling and honesty... oh, Draco, I can't find words to describe how happy it makes me."

"Mother," Draco said again, with a much softer tone that had the recognizable whining quality to it which reminded her of his childhood and happier time.

And now he was going to be happy again. Narcissa couldn't help but cry at that.

"Mother!"

"I'm just so happy, my son. Just so incredibly happy to see you so incredibly happy."

Draco muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Women!' under his breath, but he opened his arms and let her hug him.

"Things are going to be fine for all of us now, mother. Everything is looking up, everything is going to be just fine," he reassured.

"Oh, I have no doubts about it," she smiled. "I'm just so happy."

---

"Aaaaah!" Susan cried, running into the room.

"What?" Hannah almost fell off her chair.

"The ice-sculpture, the beautiful ice-sculpture, they forgot to put a Freezing Spell on it. Now it's half-melted! I saved what I could, but half of him is gone now!" she wailed.

"Good," Hermione smiled. "He really is too full of himself. Melting down a bit wouldn't hurt."

"This is serious!" Susan snapped. "The sculpture is ruined."

"So?" Angelina asked. "It's just one of many. Throw it out and move the others a bit, no one will notice anything missing."

"Of course they would!" Susan cried. "Those sculptures describe Hermione and Draco's road to love-" Hermione snorted. "-and you can't just take one away. The last is them having a picnic, and the next is him proposing! You can't just go from picnic to engagement! You need the kissing part first!!!"

"I'd say you need something else first as well," Angelina smiled mischievously. Having Fred Weasley as a husband had really rubbed on her.

Ginny laughed out on that.

"Believe me, your wonderful hubby and his twin already tried. Made a very nice sculpture, those two. Very detailed, and moved quite realistically."

Hermione snorted again.

"He never said anything to me," Angelina faked being hurt.

"Oh, I'm sure. Because our dear Hermione here," Ginny indicated towards the smirking bride. "Blasted the thing into pieces and spelled those sharp pieces straight at Fred and George. They made seven laps around the house before the ice finally melted."

Angelina chuckled.

"What? What was the sculpture about?" Hannah was too nervous to think right.

"Let's just say it involved pillows," Ginny winked.

"But what about the missing sculpture!" Susan wailed again.

"Why in Sweet Salazar did I ever agree to have all those silly sculptures?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Those sculptures are gorgeous!" Hannah shouted, and Ginny turned to the bride.

"So, why did you?" she inquired.

"I don't know," Hermione said, and took a moment to think about it. "I suppose because no one really asked my opinion about it."

"Well, they are still gorgeous," Hannah repeated, though a bit more calmly now.

"I think they are silly," Hermione stated. "Perhaps you should melt them all?"

"No!" Susan screeched. "No, no, no, no, no, no! Don't you worry, I'll deal with it. I'm sure that at the right angle no one would notice. Perhaps place one of the ferns to hide it..."

Still mumbling to herself, Susan left the room.

_One down, three to go,_ Hermione thought.

"All right, girl," Angelina announced. "Enough of this mambo-jumbo! Time to get you presentable."

And she moved in to kill, armed with a lipstick in one hand and mascara in the other.

Seeing that, Hermione quickly went for her wand.

"I think I'm ready," she warned her harpies. "Let's just sit down and try to relax for a moment."

"Relax! I am relaxed!" the ball of nerves shouted.

"I don't think your wedding day is one to relax," Angelina said. "I remember my wedding day. I remember sneaking away under the cover of the chaos and meeting Fred for a quickie at that broom-shed in the yard. Really, forbidden fruit does taste like heaven. But there was nothing relaxing about that, however. Especially when Molly caught us sneaking back."

"So that's why Mum was shouting like there was no tomorrow!" Ginny exclaimed. "I thought it was about the yellow roses instead of white. So, Hermione, want to sneak away under the cover of the chaos?"

"I'd rather not. With the press snooping around they might get a good picture of us, and that's not one I'd like to see on tomorrow's Daily Prophet's cover."

"I would!" Ginny stated.

"Oh, hush," Hermione waved at her. "You already got to see the ice-sculpture."

"Oh yes!"

"Anyway, I thought we could sit down for a bit and talk."

Her three bridesmaids changed confused looks, until their faces suddenly lightened with understanding and they sat down at once.

"So," Angelina started carefully. "Are you nervous?"

"About the wedding? I suppose I am a bit, with so many people attending. I feel like something quite embarrassing is destined to happen. But about the marriage? No, I'm not. I know this is exactly what I want."

Three girls nodded almost synchronously.

"Aren't you nervous about afterwards?"

"Afterwards?" she frowned.

"You know, after the party."

"What's happening after the party?"

Three girls stared at her intently, until Hermione finally got it and burst out laughing.

"Now why would I be nervous about that?" she breathed deeply, once her laughter had subdued.

"Well, many girls are afraid..." Angelina said slowly.

"Were you?"

"No, but it wasn't our first time, either."

"And what makes you think it's ours," Hermione smiled. "You all heard about the sculpture, didn't you? And you, Ginny, saw it."

"Yes, but..." Now it was Ginny's turn to get nervous. "You said you wanted to talk."

"I did. Just not about that."

"Oh. Then what?"

"Let me tell you a story."

"A story?" Angelina asked incredulously.

"Yes. A story about a fateful night, when a girl walked into her enemy's home to ask for his forgiveness."

---

"Mother!" Draco turned to Narcissa in shock. He could have sworn she had just told him to apologize to the Mudblood who had tried to ruin their lives, but that couldn't have been right, could it?

"Draco!" she retorted coldly. "Do as I told you."

"But... why?"

"Because she is our guest. Because she came her to apologize. Because we got our second chance and have no right to deny it to someone else. Because we try to be better people now. Take your pick, Draco."

"How about because we need good publicity and she can give us that?"

"Draco..." Narcissa's voice was dark.

"No," Hermione said quickly, reminding them of her presence. "I'll take it. I deserve it. It's only fair that I help you clean your name after I dragged it through dirt myself."

"You are too kind, my dear, but I will not allow it," Narcissa announced. "We are where we are only because of our own deeds, and not anyone else's. We have to clean up our own mess, and that's what we will do. But you, my dear, should sit down and have some tea. We don't have much company these days, and you are very much appreciated here. And not just tonight. Come always when you want – our doors will be open to you. You have been forgiven, my dear, and now it's time for us to ask your forgiveness. I know my husband has done evil things to you and your kind, and my son hasn't treated you like you deserve, either. And even I have had bad thoughts of you and wished you ill. Can you forgive us for all the things we have done to you?"

Looking straight into her eyes, Hermione saw only sincerity and pain in their blue depths.

"Of course," she nodded and smiled.

"Thank you, my dear," Narcissa smiled back, but now her look was not one bit cold anymore. "Draco, dear..."

"I think she deserves everything she got," he spoke darkly. "And I don't want her forgiveness."

With that he stood up, ignored his mother's calling out for him, and left the study.

"Don't worry," Narcissa said after a while. "He will come around."

---

"You were right, Mother, I did come around," Draco sighed.

"You did," Narcissa nodded. "You did in time."

---

"That's the most romantic story I have ever heard," Hannah wiped her eyes.

Hermione gave her a funny look.

"Yes, because Draco announcing I deserved everything I got is indeed oh-so-romantic," she drawled sarcastically.

Hannah sobbed again.

"Well, you got him," Ginny observed. "And I suppose you do deserve that."

Hermione gave Ginny a mock-angry look, and all the girls dissolved in laughter. The level of nervousness had noticeably reduced.

"All right," Ginny said at last. "Let's get you married now."

---

"All right," Narcissa said. "Let's get you married now."

Draco grinned stupidly, which made her laugh again, laugh until she cried.

"Oh," she sighed, breathless from her laughter. "I never imagined it would come to this when I met Hermione that fateful night and paid her to go out with you."

Narcissa laughed again, and then suddenly froze, thinking back to her words.

_...when I met Hermione that fateful night and paid her to go out with you..._

Oh no! She had not just said that. She did not just say this.

Tingles of fear running down her spine, Narcissa glanced at her son, hoping against all hope that he had not heard her. At first, when she saw his back turned, she thought this had really been the case, but her sigh of relief died on her lips as she saw his reflection in the mirror.

Ice. Stone.

He stood motionless, his face hard and cold, skin as pale as snow, his grey eyes turning darker and darker.

He was quiet, but she knew this silence would not last.

Narcissa forced out a laugh which sounded fake and frightened even to her own ears.

"Oh, come now, Draco," she tried to tease. "Don't say you took me serious. I was just joking. Of course I didn't pay Hermione to go with you."

But his expression didn't change, and she felt freezing coldness form in her own heart. Everything had gone so well. He had been so happy. Everything was going to be fine. And now this. Now her stupid slip of tongue. Now her revealing a secret she had sworn to take into her grave.

The truth was out. And it was not pretty.

No, it was not pretty at all.

"Liar," Draco spoke so softly she almost missed it. "You can't lie to me, Mother, and you know it."

He was right. She couldn't lie to him. They had gone through far too much, they knew each other far too well to not realize when the other was lying. Narcissa had always treasured that knowledge, the fact that they had such an open relationship; now she wished it wasn't so.

"Draco," she said slowly, abandoning her pretenses. "Please."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Why, Mother?" he asked, his eyes still shut.

"Because I wanted you to be happy," she answered, dropping her gaze.

Draco nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision.

"And I was happy."

She gasped in horror at the past tense. Surely things were not this bad... surely...

"You gave me happiness, Mother, with your gold. And now you took it all away, with just one sentence. Words are as potent as riches, are they not, or perhaps even more."

Narcissa was going to say something, to explain, to make things good again, when he suddenly let out a laugh so bitter it made her flinch.

"I knew it was too good to be true."

And then, before she could stop him, Draco Disapparated, leaving her stare into emptiness in horror.

She just wanted him to be happy, like any mother would. But she had forgotten that there were some things you did not tell your son on his wedding day.

And now with one sentence she had ruined the lives of the two most precious persons to her.

---

"You look beautiful," Hannah cooed, looking at Hermione, and sighing.

"Thanks. I'm sure you will be in my situation very soon," she smiled.

Hannah blushed and looked down, as the other girls grinned.

"What do you think Susan did with the sculptures?" Angelina asked suddenly.

"I don't know. And really, I don't care. I have a feeling I have eyes for only one in this wedding, and I'm not talking about the sculptures."

"Aww," Hannah sighed again. "How romantic."

"Hannah, girl," Ginny spoke. "If you get so emotional at this, you might not survive the wedding."

They all chuckled, including Hannah.

"All right, time to go," Ginny announced and opened the door, finding Narcissa standing there.

"Can I talk to Hermione for a moment?" she asked. "Alone."

Ginny, who knew how close Hermione and Narcissa had become and how much of a mother she had been to her after the death of her own parents, took this as nothing more than a mother-daughter moment, and nodded with a smile.

"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy, she is all yours. Let's go, girls," she led the harpies out of the room.

"Narcissa," Hermione breathed happily and embraced the woman. "I am so happy. Thank you, thank you so much, for helping me become this happy."

Narcissa swallowed her tears. This was not going to be easy. She had already taken away the happiness of her son, and now she had to do the same to her daughter-in-law, who she had come to love as her real daughter.

But she had to do it. If she wanted to save the situation, she had to do it.

"Hermione," she said softly, pushing the girl away from her.

The bride smiled and looked into her eyes, but instead of the tears of happiness, she could only see those of horror.

"What... what is it?" she asked in terror, taking a backwards step.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Narcissa told her, and tears spilled from her eyes. "It was a slip of tongue. We were so happy, and laughing, and then I opened my stupid mouth and said this."

"What did you say?" Hermione asked, backing further away, even though she felt she knew the answer.

"I told him the truth. About that fateful night."

Hermione's reaction was so similar to Draco's that Narcissa felt a stab of pain penetrate her heart. Her face went white and still as stone, and her warm brown eyes that had been so merry just a moment ago, darkened. Only not in anger, but in horror and despair.

She fought hard to keep her face expressionless, and even though she did not have years of training like Draco, she somehow managed it, with only one single tear coursing down her cheek and dropping into her white gown.

She turned away and sat down in front of the mirror, her look so empty and void it was painful to see.

Because Narcissa knew Hermione, too. And she knew when she was hurting, and right now her gaze told her everything she didn't want to know.

"I'm so sorry," she said again. And she really was. Right now Narcissa would have given her life to take back those words.

"It was destined to come out sooner or later," Hermione spoke, her voice cool but shaking.

"Perhaps, but later would have been better. After the wedding..."

But Hermione was shaking her head.

"No. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore."

"Hermione!" Narcissa cried. "You have to talk to him. You have to try. At least, you have to try!"

"What's the point," she chuckled bitterly. "He wouldn't listen anyway. He is way too proud for that."

"He loves you. He will listen to you. You just have to try."

When Hermione started shaking her head again, Narcissa marched up to her, grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, looking deep into her eyes, past the void into the pain and sorrow.

"Hermione Jane Granger, I love you like you were my own daughter. I love you and Draco more than anything else, more than my own life. I will not stand idle and let you two ruin your lives. You go find him right away, and you tell him everything, and if you won't do it for yourself, or for me, then do it for Draco. He deserves an explanation. He deserves happiness."

For a long moment they were both silent, with Narcissa willing the younger woman to understand this, and Hermione staring back at her.

Then...

"You are right. He deserves an explanation," Hermione said and Disapparated.

---

It had been too good to be true. And when things were too good to be true, they usually weren't true.

She was too good for him. Too beautiful, too good, too kind. He didn't deserve her, never had. And yet he had let himself think that he had her, that she was his, mind and body and spirit. All of her.

_...when I met Hermione that fateful night and paid her to go out with you..._

His mother had paid her to go out with him. He knew she had, he had seen it in her eyes.

What else had his mother paid her to do? Had she paid her to kiss him? To sleep with him? And now to marry him?

They still had their Malfoy fortune, and with that she could have afforded to buy her son any woman she wanted. Even Hermione.

A sharp pain shot through his heart. She shouldn't be doing this. She was too beautiful, too kind, too pure to sell herself like that. And he loved her too much to have her do it.

No more.

Standing on the balcony he looked down into the garden, decorated with flowers and ferns, with ribbons of red and silver. Rows and rows of white chairs, tables, glasses, ice-sculptures.

However big their ballroom was, it was still too small for 500 people. So they had decided to use the garden.

He saw figures fussing about, taking care of last minute preparations. Most guests were already there, sitting on the white chairs, talking to each other. By the red hair, he quickly found the Weasley clan, and Potter amongst them.

They were probably going to kill him afterwards. He didn't care.

It had all been a lie. A beautiful lie, but still a lie.

---

"Let me tell you a story," she whispered, resting her back against the wall and watching him stand by the railing.

"I just told one to my personal harpies a.k.a. bridesmaids, one about me deserving everything I got. Hannah thought it was so romantic that she started to cry."

"Don't," he stopped her.

"Don't what?"

"Don't apologize."

She stayed silent for a few moments, staring at the horizon and letting her tears flow freely.

"Fine. I won't apologize, even though I should. But I will explain."

He didn't object, and she started her story.

"You remember that fateful night just as clearly as I do. But there was more to it than you know. Something that happened before I paid you that visit..."

---

The weather was just as grey and somber as Hermione's mood. It was not raining yet but it felt like it would start any second now. She was walking down Diagon Alley aimlessly, dark thoughts spinning in her mind. Today had been a very bad day to her. A **very** bad day.

She had loved working in the little bookshop in Muggle London. It had not been just a Muggle shop, though, servicing to both wizards and Muggles. Owned by a wizard truly believing in peaceful co-existence with Muggles, it had had the coziest atmosphere and the nicest staff of mostly Muggle-borns. The pay wasn't great, but she loved her work, and her colleagues, and the books of course – both the Muggle ones available to everyone and the magical ones hidden from non-magic folk.

In fact, the pay was so little she had to get herself another job, a night job in a pub, but with that only being part-time and her love towards the bookshop as great as it was, she had managed to do both, however tiring it sometimes got.

Hermione had loved the idea of witches and wizards browsing Muggle books, but those witches and wizards apparently hadn't agreed. And since the shop offered both, it's choice of Muggle books wasn't as big as other places nearby, and both magic and non-magic folk had found better places to do their shopping.

And so, one fateful day, the little cozy shop was out of business, and Hermione out of job.

And like that wasn't enough, she mused sourly, coming to stop before Madam Malkin's for no particular reason, her landlord had decided to raise the rent. And not only raise it, but demand it one month in advance. She had tried to explain how she was between jobs right now, how she would have to find another, how she would pay him like she always had. But he had said no, and now Hermione was homeless as well.

What a fall in one single day!

It started raining, and even though the concept of standing in the rain and freezing herself to death didn't seem too bad at the moment, she jumped into the shop for refuge.

Well, she could borrow that money, of course, she pondered, walking round the shop and looking at the clothes at display. She still had a little money left, she could buy herself a pretty dress, stand by the road, and hope her knight in shining armour would pick her up. Then they could sell his horse and shining armour, and keep her little apartment. And she could find herself another job, and they could live happily ever after.

She could borrow it, but she didn't want to. Sure, Harry was rich enough, but with him just starting a family with Ginny, they would sure need that money for themselves. Hermione didn't want to bother him with her worries, and she was a bit too proud to announce her failure.

She could do it on her own. She could. She could.

She could buy that dress and stand by the road and freeze herself to death in the rain. The answer to all of her problems.

"I'd choose the green ones if I were you," a voice spoke up, and she was startled from her morbid thoughts. Looking up she saw the bright orange robes in front of her, and the green ones just next to them.

"Oh, of course," she sighed wistfully, even thought in this weather she really would have to wear bright orange for her knight to notice her by the road in the first place.

Turning around, she was to smile at Madam Malkin, when quite a different view opened up to her. Instead of the merry shopkeeper, she was facing a blonde woman, standing straight and proud before her.

It took her a moment to realize where they knew each other from, but once the realization hit, it hit full-force. Hermione stiffed, and draw to her full height as well, forcing her expression into one of polite defiance.

"Miss Granger," the woman nodded, and the last hope of her not recognizing her was wiped from Hermione. But it was foolish of her to think that in the first place, for who would forget the person who had tried to destroy them?

"Mrs. Malfoy," she repeated her gesture, hoping the blonde would leave, not in the mood for a session of refined insulting. But once again those hopes were in vain.

"You should try them on," Narcissa had spoken indifferently, but she had still said something other than just the necessary greetings the manners demanded of her, and stayed put even though she could have left.

"I..." Hermione was a bit taken aback by that suggestion. After the day she had had, it wasn't so surprising, though.

So when Narcissa had taken the robes off the clothes rack, handed them to Hermione, and pushed her towards the dressing rooms, she had done it without a protest.

Perhaps it was all one bad dream.

The robes were beautiful, though, she managed to notice. Its deep forest green colour combined with her brown hair and eyes gave her the prefect look of a nature spirit; the material was soft and delicate against her skin, and hugged all the curves of her body in an elegant way.

Wearing that she wouldn't have looked too out of place in some fancy high-class ball, but it still preserved and exhibited her passion and freedom of spirit. Which was funny because those things were rather opposite, and in the end she was still a plain bookworm.

Once outside the dressing room, she was greeted by the joyful cries of Madam Malkin who insisted that the robes had been made for her, and that it would be a crime not to buy them.

Later Hermione wondered whether she had been hit with momentary stupidity, which managed to last a bit longer than just a moment, because she had actually spent the last of the little money she had and desperately needed on the fancy robes she didn't need at all.

But this prompted something else to happen, and a whole set of actions were put into move with her purchase; or perhaps with her simply being in the right place at the right time.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa addressed her once again, making her start because she had forgotten her presence. "Now that you look slightly more presentable, would you mind joining me for dinner at the Diamond Hall?"

Hermione opened her mouth to deny politely, but halted her words. She knew it would have been the right thing to go home, into her lovely little apartment to sleep one last night in her own bed, then pack her bags in the morning, and go – but where? She knew going with Mrs. Malfoy to one of the most expensive and high-class restaurants would mean trouble, especially since she now had no money to pay for the food. But there was something so depressing about sitting at home and staring at the rain outside, thinking about the future that was so much more depressing, while she could go to some fancy place in her fancy robes and pretend she had no such worries.

And the day had been so depressing already that she could not bring herself to care about the trap she might be walking into.

---

"I can't say that the dinner was a comfortable or comforting affair," Hermione smiled wistfully, staring at the clouds at the horizon. "I might have been a bit hazed and confused from my day, but I still had some surviving skills that kept me in tension the whole time, waiting for the blow to come and preparing myself for it to fall."

"Did it?" Draco asked so coldly she shivered. It was the first time he disrupted her story.

"Yes, it did," she replied.

---

"Miss Granger, there is a matter of great importance I would like to discuss with you," Mrs. Malfoy said once they seemed to have run out of all the pleasantries and small talk.

Hermione barely managed to keep back her sigh of relief. This was the moment she had been waiting for the whole evening, this was the reason she had been asked to the dinner. The suspense had kept her strained the whole appetizer and main course, now, as they were waiting for the dessert to be served, everything was going to be revealed.

"Miss Granger, there is something I need to ask of you. A favour, you may call it," she spoke, and nodded to the waiter who placed the crystal bowl of chocolate mousse in front of her first, and then did the same for Hermione.

"Yes?" she prompted when Narcissa had paused to give her a severe look to see whether her sentences had been heard and understood. She had no need to worry, Hermione was practically hanging on her every word, even those yet unsaid.

"I know that you did everything in your power to have my son sent into Azkaban."

Hermione's expression didn't change – the woman had said exactly what she had expected of her; after all, what else could have been there for them to discuss? What really mattered were her next words, words that definitely would held a promise of revenge, or threat in them.

"Are you still pursuing that goal?" Narcissa's pale blue eyes had darkened into the colour of the stormy seas, and Hermione realized she wasn't the only one here under strain. The older woman looked like her life depended on her answer, though Hermione was sure it was her own life that was going to be threatened this night.

She weighed her answer carefully. The truth was that despite all her efforts she had no chance any more to continue that matter. In fact, it was her fight against Malfoy that got her fired and thrown out of the Ministry in the first place, and even though her friends had protested for her, it hadn't changed things. Perhaps they would have managed to achieve the justice in the end, but she had pleaded with them to drop the matter. She craved for the fairness more than anyone else, but wasn't ready to risk tearing the Wizarding world into two again, so close after the end of the war. Instead she had acted like a true Gryffindor, and sacrificed herself for the sake of greater happiness. Not that she had minded it back then – the little bookshop was her idea of a perfect job, after all. But now...

"And what if I am?" she answered defiantly.

"Then I must ask you to let it go."

"And what if I refuse?" Hermione inquired, her own eyes blazing in fury now.

"I insist," Narcissa said calmly, her gaze almost unbearable to hold. But Hermione was way too proud and way too stubborn to look away. The air around them seemed to sizzle with electricity, it felt heavy and explosive, like moments before a thunderstorm.

"And what if I still refuse?" she replied, ignoring the voice of reason in her head which whispered that it would be a very, very good idea to get the hell out of there right this moment, if not earlier.

Because this was the meeting place of the rich and the powerful, of high-class purebloods, of people who hated her and the likes of her. Because she realized Narcissa Malfoy could probably murder her on the spot, and get away with it.

She didn't seem as ruthless and malicious as her late husband, but there were few things a mother would not do for her child. And surely Hermione was a threat to her son.

---

"You thought she would kill you?" Draco asked, a note of incredulously in his otherwise emotionless tone.

"I didn't know her back then," she answered quietly. Now that she did, she felt so ashamed of her thoughts on that fateful night, of what she had thought the sweet woman and kind mother being capable of. Narcissa Malfoy was not only incapable of murder, but didn't want to harm anyone. True, she loved her son with all her heart, and would have done a lot for him, but the use of violence was her last resort, something she would use only if everything else failed.

"You knew my father, and you knew me. So you made the conclusion of all Malfoys being monsters."

"No," she shook her head.

"No?" he asked, his voice indicating he knew she was lying.

"No," Hermione repeated. "I didn't know you."

---

"Don't," Narcissa said so softly she would have missed it had she not been listening to her so intently. But her expression and tone still meant danger.

"And why not?" Hermione couldn't keep herself from asking. One of her hands moved to crab her wand, ready to leap up from the chair and fight a dozen Dark Curses the next second.

"Because," Narcissa said. "Because it would break my heart to see my son sent to that awful place."

Hermione stared at her a moment, then blinked rapidly, unable to comprehend. The tension in the air was gone, the danger was gone, all that was left was sadness.

Her brain slowly started to register the clatter and chatter in the restaurant again, something the tension around their table had blocked away for a while. Looking around, it was as if she had woken from a dream.

People eating and drinking, talking and smiling to each other, people who had been ready to draw their wands and curse her just a moment ago. Or at least so it had seemed to her.

The candles in the air sparkled merrily, and the soft light around them was warm and comfortable.

Turning back to her companion, instead of a murdering Death Eater all she saw was a worried mother, a lonely tear coursing down her cheek as she thought about the horrible future of her son.

And suddenly Hermione felt herself like a real bastard. Her earlier analogy seemed to be correct. It was as if she had woken from a dream, as if she had opened her eyes at last and seen the real world.

She had despised Malfoy for his prejudice against Muggles and Muggle-borns, and now she had done the same. Having dealt with both Lucius and Draco, she had classified Narcissa as the same – ruthless and malicious, capable of anything. Without a moment's thought, a moment's doubt she had thought the worst of her... but now she was able to see the sincerity in her eyes... the honesty, the concern, and the deep sadness.

She was a woman worried sick for the safety and welfare of her son. She was as far from a murderous monster than anyone could be. In fact, Hermione felt herself a much greater monster at the moment.

"He is not that bad," Narcissa continued, misunderstanding her confusion. "He might be cold and ruthless sometimes, but his heart is in the real place. I know he has done some awful things, that he has treated you bad in the past, but... you don't know what it's been like for him. He had to live up for so many expectations, he had to be perfect, act perfectly, become what he was meant to be. Lucius, may he rest in peace, had made his choice a long time ago, and there was no other choice for him, for both of us. True, it was our fault as well that we didn't try, that we didn't look for the truth, that we didn't think for ourselves, that we accepted everything that was given to us. We wanted it simple and safe, not ready to put ourselves in danger for the sake of a greater good. We put ourselves, and our safety first, and didn't care for the rest of the world. We made that mistake.

"But, Miss Granger," she turned her pleading eyes towards the girl. "We have realized our mistake. We are willing to change, to become better persons. All we ask for is a second chance. Perhaps we won't deserve it for everything we have done, but I beg you, Hermione, I beg you. I'm not asking for forgiveness because it would be too much to ask, but... just another chance. To make amends. To correct our mistakes. To help those we have hurt. One chance, that's all that I'm asking."

Hermione was having more than little trouble to understand what she was hearing. Too much, way too much during one lousy day. She was tired, she was confused, she was incapable of thinking at the moment. She couldn't, she just couldn't deal with it at the moment.

So she did the only thing she was able to do, not realizing what it meant for the other woman.

"No," she shook her head. "I can't. I simply can't. I'm sorry, I have to go."

With those words she stood from the table, and fled the restaurant.

---

Once back at home, at her little cozy apartment that was not going to be her little cozy apartment for much longer, Hermione made herself a large cup of tea, and sank into her sofa, sipping it.

Soon after drinking up her tea, she fell asleep, and didn't wake before it had already grown dark and stormy outside. She stretched herself for a moment, and wondered how it had happened she had fallen asleep like that, when everything rushed back to her.

Her job, her apartment, and Narcissa Malfoy. And it was the last thing that hit her the hardest because now, after her most needed rest, she was suddenly able to comprehend what had happened in that restaurant – what she had asked, no, pleaded of her, and what answer she had given her.

And just like that the loss of her job and the trouble with her apartment didn't matter anymore. All that counted was that a desperate mother had begged for a second chance for herself and her son, and she had refused her that. True, she hadn't known what she was doing at the moment, but that was no excuse. She should have known, she should have made herself understand, and she should have done the complete opposite.

Not willing to lose another moment, Hermione jumped to her feet and hurried into the bathroom for a quick shower, then dressed, and Disapparated. It didn't matter it was late, it didn't matter she was freezing cold in the rain and wind before the Manor's front gate, it didn't matter that she was less than welcomed into the house which she was about to enter.

All that mattered, all she could think about was making things right.

---

"You know what happened then," Hermione spoke, willing him to turn around and look at her, even with hatred. But he didn't turn, and he didn't speak.

"I remember that night as if it had happened yesterday," she continued. "That fateful night. The worst day in my life, and at the same time, the best."

"You haven't told me yet how my mother paid you to go out with me," Draco said, finally removing himself from the railing, and walking past her into the room, without sparing her one look.

It hurt, she couldn't deny it. But she deserved it, didn't she? He had been right that fateful night months ago – she deserved everything she got.

Afraid he might leave, Hermione followed him back inside.

"No, I haven't," she said, watching him stand before the fireplace, gazing into the flames.

"But I will. I will. It all happened that night. That very same night, after you had left the room, and I was having tea with your mother."

---

Hermione was the first to break the silence that had fell upon them with Draco storming out of the room, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as she would have expected. Still, both sipping their tea, Narcissa had the look which prompted her to say something, anything. And she realized that the easiest thing to do was to explain.

"Mrs. Malfoy, there's something I have to explain to you," she began, took another sip of hot tea for courage, and went on. "Today, at the Diamond Hall, I didn't mean what I said there. When I said 'no', I didn't mean I couldn't give you another chance, I simply meant I wasn't able to deal with a matter so serious at that time.

"You see," Hermione placed her cup on the table and turned to face the older woman who was sitting by her side, "I hadn't been having a good day. In fact, it had been rather awful, and I was tired, and confused, and tired, and I just felt that all the things kept on and on piling up on me, too much had happened during that one day, and I simply couldn't deal with everything at that point. I just... I was tired, and confused, and I didn't realize what I was refusing."

"Is everything all right?" Narcissa asked, and the concern in her tone was real. Seeing Hermione's blank face, she added, "You said you were having a bad day."

"I'm fine, really," she exclaimed, a little too loud and a little too merrily. "Thanks for asking."

But Narcissa Malfoy knew when she was being lied to. Living her life with Lucius and Draco had taught her to read everything even from the smallest wrinkle or movement of muscles, but even without her training she would have realized the girl was not telling the truth, so obvious were her lies.

She didn't start prying because it wasn't really her business at all, but she gave her this long look she had used on Draco on countless times, and it usually worked. So it did now, for Hermione was still a bit overwhelmed from her day, and besides, she really needed to talk to someone about it.

"I lost my job today," she said and let her shoulders sag a bit.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, dear," Narcissa answered sincerely. "What job was it?"

"It was a bookshop," Hermione explained, already feeling better for having someone listening to her. "It was this little bookshop that handled both wizard and Muggle books, and sold them both to wizards, and Muggle books to Muggles."

"Well, that sounds like a great idea for business."

"It might sound, but it isn't. Wizards obviously don't like shopping with Muggles, and Muggles weren't too fond of the shop either. So it went out of business."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, dear."

Hermione nodded miserably, and poured herself another cup of tea.

The clock by the table chimed eleven.

"Eleven," Hermione counted its strikes. "It's already eleven."

Narcissa opened her mouth to answer when the girl suddenly let out a horrified gasp, and sloshing some tea onto her robes, jumped to her feet, her face going very pale.

"Oh Merlin!" she cried out. "It's eleven o'clock. I'm late to work. On no, oh no, oh no, oh no."

Narcissa gazed up at her with concern and confusion. She looked too white for her own good, as if she might faint any second now.

"But didn't you say you lost your job today?" she spoke calmly, thinking she must have forgotten it.

But Hermione kept shaking her head.

"No, not that job. My other job, my night job. Oh Merlin, I'm going to get fired from there as well, and then I have nowhere to go to. I'm out on the streets."

Her face went even paler, and first her hands started to shake, then her whole body, as panic overtook her mind and senses. Her legs too weak to carry, she fell back to the sofa, her mouth open in silent terror.

Now her behaviour began to really worry Narcissa. She clearly needed to do something to help the poor girl, perhaps even call a mediwizard. But first she still tried to calm her down.

"I'm sure it's not that bad, dear."

"But it is," Hermione gulped, taking a deep breath, and indeed calming down a bit. "My landlord raised the rent this afternoon, and if I don't pay him tomorrow morning, I'm asked to move out of my apartment. I asked for an extension, but he refused. Tomorrow morning, or I'm out.

"I don't have that kind of money," she admitted, rocking herself back and forward like a frightened child.

"I don't have any money," she added. "I thought I'd stay a few nights in the Leaky Cauldron, but I spent the last of it on those stupid robes. I don't know why I bought them, I'm not going to need them anyway. Not when I'm going to live and sleep on the streets."

Narcissa Malfoy had never been one to have money troubles, or at least troubles with too little money. Their family faults were huge and full of gold, and they owned more than enough real estate.

But she tried her best to imagine herself into her guest's situation, and wondered what she would do then.

"I'm sure your friends would be happy to help you out."

Hermione stopped the rocking and squirmed a bit in her seat. Yes, that seemed like her only possibility, and still she was reluctant to use it.

"Yes, but I don't want to trouble them. They have their own lives and own problems to worry about. I don't want to make it even harder for them. No, I must manage on my own, I am a big girl, I **can** manage on my own."

Narcissa couldn't hold her smile back on that, and seeing that Hermione's face fell.

"I," she started, but was cut off.

"It's not what you think, dear," Mrs. Malfoy explained. "I'm not smiling at your misfortune, even though it might have looked like that."

"Why are you smiling then?" she was curious.

"You are too proud, darling, too proud. Too proud to ask for help, even though many would be more than happy to help you. But you are too proud. Just like Draco."

The last statement made Hermione forget all her worries, and an angry redness rose onto her pale cheeks, as she opened her mouth to insist fiercely she was nothing, nothing and in no way anything like Draco Malfoy, but her rant never made it, since her livid impression was enough to drive the already smiling Narcissa into laughter.

She watched indignantly as the cool and graceful Mrs. Malfoy giggled in front of her like a little girl. Not a common sight, she had to admit.

And when she stopped at last, and spoke, Hermione realized she would rather have her laughing at her.

"You two would be perfect together."

Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it yet again. She couldn't even manage an angry stutter, as awful as it was. And she couldn't keep silent either lest the other woman think she agreed with her.

"He hates me," she was able to say at last. "And I don't like him either."

But Narcissa Malfoy knew how to be stubborn, especially when it looked beneficial to her and her family. And once she had got one of those ideas she considered brilliant, it was very hard, if not impossible, to change her mind about it.

Hermione was fighting a hopeless fight.

"Oh, but he has changed," Narcissa told her wisely. "He's not the little spoilt kid he was back at school. You should give him a chance."

Hermione practiced some more opening and closing her mouth, although she was already very good at it.

"But... but you saw him... tonight... here..."

"Oh, he was just a bit shocked," Narcissa waved the matter away. "He will come around, don't worry. He simply has to think it over, and then he will see things the right way, just like you needed to take a break and think after the restaurant."

She couldn't argue with that, but Malfoy had seemed anything but confused to her. Well, he had been confused at his mother's kind behaviour towards his long-time enemy, but not about his feelings for that said enemy.

Hermione said as much.

---

"You were right back then, you know," Draco remarked. "I did hate you with all my heart."

"And now?" she asked, her tone quivering.

"Now what?"

"Do you hate me now?"

"You haven't told me what I want to hear about, yet," was his only reply.

---

"Nonsense," Narcissa refused to listen to her. "He's just a bit confused, that's all. And lonely. He has been very lonely lately. You would give him a chance, wouldn't you?"

Hermione was beginning to realize her coming here might have consequences she could have never even imagined before, consequences serious and dangerous.

"He doesn't want me."

"But would you forgive him if he asked? Would you give him a chance?"

"What kind of a chance?" she questioned, already sure she didn't want to find out.

"He has been so lonely lately. I could organize a nice dinner for you two. Would you go out with him?"

With an inhuman effort, Hermione was able to swallow her scream of NO!!! Because that wouldn't have been too polite. Or kind.

"He would never go out with me."

"Leave him to me," Narcissa said quickly. "All you have to do is show up in the right place at the right time. Perhaps not the Diamond Hall, it's a bit too formal. How about La Passione, the little cozy Italian place? That's sounds suitable, doesn't it? Let's say Friday evening at seven o'clock? Is that all right with you?"

Hermione mind went blank again. She had lost her job, she was going to lose her home, she had made friends with one of her greatest enemies, and was making plans about dating the other.

Had the world gone crazy without her noticing that? Yes, that was the only explanation she could think of.

"Great!" Narcissa exclaimed, taking her silence as a sign of agreeing.

Hermione would have almost nodded, but managed to wake from her reverie at the last moment, and started to shake her head instead.

"No, I'm sorry, I can't. I can't go out with your son. I'm sure he is a great person and everything-" Hermione practically choked on her words, "-but he really isn't my type. Not my type at all. I'm sorry."

"Just this one date," Narcissa pleaded. "That's all I'm asking."

The girl continued to shake her head.

"No, I'm sorry. Not my type. No. Can't go out with-"

"I'll pay you."

Hermione stopped mid-word, and simply gaped. It seemed as if even Narcissa was a bit surprised at her own proposal, but now it was out already, she was not going to back off.

"Think about it," she went on to explain while the girl continued her gaping. "You get money to pay for your apartment, and live normally until you find yourself another job. You don't have to bother your friends, and everyone sees you can manage on your own. And all I ask in return is one night, one dinner, nothing else. You don't have to do anything, just go to the restaurant, eat and drink and talk a bit, and then go back home. Just a few hours to bear in his company, that's not too bad, is it? And I'm not asking you to do anything you don't want to do. Just go and eat, and perhaps you see that I'm telling you the truth about him being a different person now."

Hermione still gaped, and Narcissa took it as a good omen. After all, she wasn't yelling at her, or refusing her offer, or storming away from the room.

"Take it as a job if you must. I'm hiring you as an escort for my son, it's all legal and moral, nothing wrong about it. One dinner, and you can preserve your home and get your life back on track. Isn't this an offer too good to turn down?"

Minutes passed by, and they sat in silence, Mrs. Malfoy realizing all she had to do now was to wait.

"One night," Hermione said at last.

"Yes."

"Just dinner."

"Just dinner, nothing more," Narcissa reassured.

"Just a few hours."

"Yes, just a couple of hours."

"And I just have to talk to him?"

"Just talk."

"Oh, all right," Hermione said in a tone that indicated she didn't like it one bit.

Narcissa smiled.

The clock chimed midnight.

---

"And that's the story," Hermione concluded her tale.

Draco didn't say anything for a long time, but just like Narcissa had kept her silence that fateful night before Hermione had accepted the offer, she knew it was now her time to wait.

"There's one more thing you haven't told me," he said at last, his tone a mixture of resolution and something else.

"What's that?" she inquired.

"How much?" he asked.

"How much what?" Hermione was confused.

"How much did she pay you?"

Hermione turned her face away, another teardrop leaving her eye, even though he wasn't looking at her. She didn't want to answer the question because all in all it did not matter how much she had been paid, but that answer would not satisfy him. Still, for some reason she felt that naming the sum would make things worse, which was ridiculous because things really couldn't get much worse any more.

"How much?" he demanded.

"Three thousand Galleons," she sobbed.

The silence that followed was filled with her tiny sounds of crying, sounds that she tried to suppress with all her might, but couldn't. She was staring at his figure again, through the misty curtain of tears, but he didn't even move. Her distress had no impact on him, and she was reminded of better times, times that had ended less that an hour ago, when he would have taken her into his arms, rested his forehead against hers, and whispered words of comfort into her ear. But she didn't deserve it, and never had.

"That little?" he formed his reply at last, and she could tell he was surprised.

"She wanted to give me ten, but I managed to bargain it down," she smiled mirthlessly, thinking back to her expression when being offered ten thousand Galleons for one date with Malfoy. It hadn't been very reassuring.

"Did you really valued yourself that low back then?"

"I was homeless, workless, and knutless, Draco," she gave a bitter laugh. "At that point it was a bit hard to think highly of myself. Besides, it was just one date. Three thousand Galleons for three hours was a lot more than enough."

"Ah," he said, and lapsed into silence again.

"Although," Hermione continued, sweet memories invading her mind, "There were moments when I started to doubt that. The main one being the look on your face when you arrived at the restaurant, and realized I was your date."

---

Sitting in the expensive green dress robes she had bought on the same day she had met and dined with Narcissa for the first time, her hair fixed into something intricate and pretty, Hermione stared at the merrily burning candle on the table in front of her, and fidgeted.

To say that she was nervous as hell would have been a major understatement, after all, this was Friday and it was three minutes to seven. She had arrived early, out of her anxiety mostly, and the wait had not managed to calm her down.

Narcissa had reassured her (over and over again) that everything would go fine, and she had even started to believe her. But then the day had arrived, and the time had arrived, and she made herself pretty (for the date, not for Malfoy), and came here, and suddenly all of Narcissa's calming and reassuring words meant nothing.

Two minutes to seven. Oh Merlin, how slow could time go? In a desperate try to fight her nervousness, she thought instead of the happy things. Like paying three months rent in advance, and buying new curtains, something her apartment had been in desperate need of for a while now. Then, realizing she still had a large sum left, Hermione had done something rather risky and perhaps even stupid – yes, she was prone to act stupid lately. Her beloved bookshop had gone bankrupt, and she had been able to buy it for only a fraction of its actual value. Yes, she had bought it. Now all she had to do was to get it back into business, and this time for good. She wasn't sure how exactly she was going to manage that, although she did have some plans, but she also had a really good feeling about this. She loved the shop with all her heart, and she was determined to make it work.

One minute to seven. Be cool, Hermione, she told herself. Very soon her arch nemeses would step through that door, look at her with eyes filled with contempt and hatred, and also shock because she was 100 percent sure Narcissa had not told him who his date was, and then she would have to smile and play cool. No yelling or insulting – this was a job, after all, and she was going to do it well.

The clock chimed seven, and turning her head towards the entrance, she saw Malfoy standing there, probably inquiring about his table. All she could do was wish they would keep him waiting. But he was a Malfoy, after all, and such behaviour would have cost the restaurant one of their best clients.

Looking away once again, Hermione could hear his footsteps through all the chatter and clatter in the room; or perhaps these were her own heartbeats. But then they stopped, and a shadow fell on the table, and she knew she would have to raise her head now and look her doom in the eye.

Yet she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, and her expression was proud and cool as she raised her eyes to meet his, filled with contempt, hatred, and shock, just like she had predicted. But then the shock vanished, and all that was left was cold hate and anger, and a promise of pain. For a fleeting second she thought he might curse her right then and there, or just grab her neck and squeeze.

_No amount of money is enough to bear that look of hatred and disdain_ was her last thought before she braced herself and opened her mouth.

"I take it your mother didn't tell you who you were going to meet with?" she inquired casually, forcing her tone pleasant.

He shook his head, and took the seat across from her, killing her over and over again with his glare. Unfortunately for him, looks could not kill, and she was still there in front of him, and even though her smile was a bit forced, it was still there.

"Mother made me promise to be nice to you," he spat the words out as if a curse.

"She's clever," Hermione replied.

"You don't seem so surprised to see **me** here," he commented darkly.

"She is also very persuasive," she said. "**Very **persuasive. Believe me. One moment I'm drinking tea with her, and the next I have already accepted to go out with my childhood enemy, without any idea of how this came to be."

Draco glared at her for a moment longer, but then his look softened in connection with his mother.

"Yes, she is like that. Sly and scheming."

"And stubborn, too," Hermione gave a small laugh. "I tried to refuse, trust me, I tried to. But once she got the idea that we would 'be perfect together', and here I'm quoting her so don't give me that look, she didn't stop before she managed to make me agree. I'm still not very sure how."

_By giving you three thousand Galleons_, she solved the mystery in her mind.

"I tried to refuse as well," he admitted reluctantly. "I know to be wary of the girls Mother sets me up with. Although this time she seems to have outdone herself."

"Well, you're not my vision of a perfect date, either," she snapped before she could stop herself. The clock on the wall showed seven past seven. These three hours were going to be the longest in her life.

But he **had** promised to be nice to her, and he was not going to break that promise. Which meant that except for the murderous glares he graced her with throughout their entire meal, Hermione was actually having good time. At least as long as she didn't look at him, and tried to forget who he was.

They talked mostly about Narcissa, a bit about books, and just a couple of things about their present doings. Hermione told him about her newly bought bookshop, and although she could see how hard it was to him, he managed not to sneer at her for this. Draco in his turn talked about the numerous pieces of real estate their family had all around the world, and his plans with them. When he mentioned he was going to sell their house in the Alps, Hermione could not hold herself back once again.

"No!" she exclaimed. "You can't sell that."

He had raised a brow at her in question, although more curious than angry.

"Well," Hermione blushed and hurried to explain. "Don't you just love the snow, and the mountains, and the view, and the snow, and the everything there? I mean, I'd love to have a house in such a place."

He looked at her then, long and hard, and for the life of her she could not decipher that gaze of his, which lacked its usual malice and hatred.

"If it were a real date, I would ask you to come with me there one day, but we both know it is never going to happen," he said at last, and even though she couldn't explain it, Hermione felt like crying.

But then the moment passed, and she didn't think about it any longer, at least, not until the end of their date.

He accompanied her home. She said it was unnecessary. He said it was the polite thing to do, and he had promised to be polite.

Which meant that half past ten they were standing in front of her house, neither saying a thing, in an uncomfortable silence. Hermione wanted to say good-bye and leave, but she also knew that this would end the date officially, and then he wouldn't have to be nice to her anymore. It would be a lie to tell that she wasn't a bit afraid that he might curse her the moment she turned her back to him, but he had better ways to hurt her. Because he had been so nice to her, and she had had really good time, no matter how hard she tried to deny it.

But in her heart she knew that against her will these hours spent together had made her hope, made her wish for something more, wish for a miracle. And she knew he could crush it all with a mere word.

But there was no point in fighting the inevitable.

"Good night, Malfoy," she said at last, even managing a small smile. "I had a great time."

"So did I, Granger," he replied politely. "Good night to you as well."

But neither of them made a move to leave.

"The date is officially over now," Hermione spoke sadly after a while, aware of what was to come, and preparing herself for it.

But he didn't start yelling at her.

"It is," he said instead, calmly.

She blinked once, twice, shocked at his behaviour.

"You don't have to be polite to me anymore, Malfoy," she reminded him, wanting this all be over and done with, and back in her sweet little apartment, having tea, and reading a good book.

"I know."

"So there's no point in delaying it any longer. Give me all you've got, Malfoy. I know you want to. You have wanted to do it all evening."

Her tone was tired, and wistful, but she didn't really care at the moment. She just wanted it to end.

"You're right," he told her, and the gleam in his eyes gave her shivers. "There is something I've wanted to do all evening."

He stepped closer to her, and she took a deep breath, her hand on her wand. But then he moved faster than she could perceive, and although she managed to draw the wand, she was not given the opportunity to use it.

Instead it clattered to the sidewalk as she slid both of her arms around his neck, and kissed him back just as passionately.

After a few minutes, Hermione picked up her wand, went home, but instead of tea and book, she simply threw herself onto the bed and decided that the world had indeed gone crazy.

---

So absorbed in those happy memories, she almost let his question pass.

"How much in total?" he had asked, and though she heard his words, they didn't make much sense to her.

"What?" she questioned once again.

"How much money did she pay you in total?"

Hermione frowned.

"I told you already. Three thousand Galleons."

"For the first date," he specified. "But how much for everything else?"

"What everything else?" she was very much aware of sounding like an idiot, but it was rather hard to answer to a question one didn't understand.

She had expected him to snap at her for the slow thinking, but he had chosen this moment out of all others to be patient and explain.

"How much did she pay you for our second date? And for the third, and forth, and so on? How much did she pay you for sleeping with me? How much is she paying you now for marrying me?"

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again, realizing no words were coming out any time soon. Her vision darkened, and then disappeared completely, and she thought she had blacked out, but then a sharp pain in her knees brought her back, and she found herself on the floor, as her legs apparently had decided not to carry her anymore. She couldn't blame them, nor did she attempt to stand, even though she was wrinkling out her delicate wedding-gown like this; but it didn't really matter because there was going to be no wedding.

She tried again to speak, but all that she managed was one desperate sob, followed by another, and another, and another, until she was crying in earnest and unable to stop.

The tears and sobs just kept on coming, and for the life of her she could not stop them. The lack of air made her gasp, and wish that she had indeed blacked out, or hit her head at the fall, and then blacked out.

She knew she was hyperventilating, but there was no one to help her, and she couldn't do anything herself. Every time she almost managed to control her sobs, his words came back to her, and even through she didn't let herself think about their meaning, they were still terrible enough to break her down once again.

Hermione had no idea how much time had passed when she finally managed to calm herself down somewhat; she would have guessed days, but surely someone would have come to look for them if it were so.

A part of her wanted to march right up to him and slap him for ever thinking such a thing of her, another wanted to crawl away into some hole and cry forever; Hermione did neither. Instead she forced her voice to speak the words she wanted to say.

"Nothing. She paid me for nothing else but that first date. I even tried to give it back to her the next day."

---

That was right – she had tried to give the money back. The very next day she had owled Narcissa and made an appointment with her at the Diamond Hall, not too comfortable with the idea of going to the Manor and meeting Draco there. After last night, she had no idea whatsoever how to act around him, and she couldn't tell what it had all meant for him.

Narcissa came at once, excited to learn more about their date, as Draco had refused to tell her anything about it. The moment Hermione sat down to their table, she was poured over with more questions she could even comprehend, less answer.

"What did Malfoy tell you about it?" were her first words, when Narcissa had finally paused.

"Nothing," she frowned. "Came home, went to his room, refused to talk to me. And this morning at the breakfast table ignored all my questions about it."

"Oh," Hermione said, and her face fell.

"Was it that awful?" Narcissa questioned, her tone concerned.

Hermione sighed, and chose not to answer, instead going for the business.

"I called you here today, Mrs. Malfoy," she spoke politely. "To give you back all the money."

"Well, not all," she added after a moment. "Since I've already spent some of it, but everything that is left. And then later, when my shop starts to bring in profit, I will give you the rest."

"My dear, that money is yours," Narcissa smiled at her, recovering from her surprise. "You earned it. And if last night was horrible beyond belief, you only deserve it even more."

"But that's the thing," Hermione admitted miserably. "Last night was not awful. Not in the least. I actually can't remember when I last had such a great time."

Narcissa's eyes sparkled at that, and her smile turned into a grin.

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, but Hermione's expression only saddened.

"And that's not the worst thing," she confessed, deciding to get it all out. "The worst thing is... is... that he kissed me. And I kissed him back. And I liked it."

She practically wailed the last sentence and dropped her head on the table, not caring one bit what other people in the restaurant may think of her. Fortunately for her their table was rather secluded, and all those who turned to watch received such a glare from Narcissa that they quickly went back to their own business.

After staring at the despairing girl in front of her for a few moments in calculating silence, she decided to cut through her misery.

"Hermione, dear," she said and waited for her to raise her head before continuing. "Why is this a bad thing?"

"Because," she said and stopped. Millions of reasons were running through her mind – he was her enemy, he hated her, nothing good would ever come out of it, they couldn't be together, her friends hated him, his friends hated her, they were too different, they had no chance. But when she opened her mouth to speak them, they suddenly eluded her, and disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place. And in the end there was only one answer left to her.

"I don't know," she said and realized she was telling the truth. "I don't know."

Narcissa smiled, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back.

"I don't know," she repeated, and no words had sounded quite so liberating or good ever before.

---

"I tried to give it back to her, but she refused," she spoke. "She said I would need it for my bookshop, and she was right. I still tried but she told me to take it as an investment into my business. In the end I agreed, but promised to pay it back in the future. But things changed, and by the time the shop had brought in enough money, we were already sharing an account, and then it sounded ridiculous to take money from an account and put it back to the same one, and then everything happened, and I forgot all about it, and now... here we are."

And now here they were.

Hermione brushed her tears away, and with the help of her memories she was able to stand up again, and stay that way. After a few deep breaths and calming thoughts, she even managed to walk, and that she did. If Mohamed didn't come to the mountain, it was time for the mountain to go to Mohamed.

And even though she wasn't too fond of being compared to a mountain, although the dress was a bit puffy, she was ready to play its part now.

Ignorant of the source of her sudden energy and determination, she didn't try to figure it out, but simply used it while it was still there.

Her future lied in her own hands, and she was not going to give up, not without a fight.

She took a seat by his side at the sofa, and touching her hand gently to his cheek, turned his face towards her.

"Look at me, Draco," she implored when he stubbornly refused to meet her gaze.

He didn't move away from her hand though, and using that, she softly caressed his face, then drew her thumb over his bottom lip, finally making him start and look at her.

She had prepared herself for the coldness in his eyes, for the anger, and hatred, and contempt, and betrayal, but she wasn't prepared for what she saw there.

Pain.

He was hiding his emotions no more, baring herself for her gaze like he had done several times before, but then it had been passion and love that she had witnessed. Now it was a pain so intense it cut through her heart like a sharp knife and for a moment she couldn't breathe.

She could have thawed his coldness, subdued his anger, broken through the hate and contempt, but there was nothing she could do to cure such pain, the one she had caused him herself.

She still made one final try, though.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered, looking him straight in the eyes and willing him to believe her. "I love you with all my heart, and soul, and body. Please believe me when I say that everything between us has been the real thing. Please believe me when I say that I love you because I do. I love you so much, Draco, so much."

He stared at her for a while, and for a moment she thought he would understand, and everything would be alright, but then he opened his mouth, and she knew his words before he managed to speak them.

"I can't, Hermione," he said, and those three words broke her heart, just like she had broken his.

He was gone the next moment, but she never heard the crack of his Apparition.

-----

**REVIEW, ok?  
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	2. 2 of 3

**Note:** Something I forgot to say before.

_I dedicate this fic to Sienna61 because it was one of her stories which inspired me. Otherwise, I probably would have never had this idea. _

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**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter going twice. **  
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**That Fateful Night, Part 2 of 3**

The expression on Hermione's face was all resignation, and Narcissa paled at it, understanding it too well.

"What happened?" she cried, but Hermione ignored her, walking down the hallway in silence. She reached the staircase and descended, then passed through the doors into the garden, and strode towards the pavilion that housed her dressing room and led to the area where the wedding was supposed to take place.

All the people were already there, waiting and restless, and the moment she stepped into the tent, her harpies were all over her.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed. "Where the hell were you? The ceremony was supposed to start half an hour ago! And where the hell is Draco?"

"Your dress!" Angelina gasped. "It's wrinkled and dirty, and your make-up is all ruined!"

Hannah only managed to let out a wail of horror.

But Hermione ignored them, too, and walking straight through the pavilion out into the open, she determinedly proceeded towards the Matrimonial Mage responsible for conducting the ceremony.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Hermione, where are you going?"

"Hermione, what happened?"

But she didn't hear their cries, nor did she notice the murmur of surprise that went through the crowd when they noticed her, nor the inquiring gaze from the Mage, nor the flashes of camera from the media.

There, in front of all the 500 and more people she finally stopped, stared at them for a few seconds with a blank look, then raised her wand to use a Sonorus charm on herself, and spoke out.

"The wedding is off."

And before anyone could even begin to comprehend the meaning behind these words, she had turned around, and Disapparated.

Out of all the people shocked and horrified, Hannah was the first to react, letting out a loud shriek, and fainting.

---

Narcissa had never left the house, therefore she was there when Hermione Apparated back.

"What did you do?" she cried in hysteria, even though the answer was crystal clear.

"Lock the doors," Hermione said, walking briskly towards her room. "There's an angry and confused mob outside, and I don't want them to disturb you."

Narcissa emitted a shriek quite similar to Hannah's, but contrary to the girl, she didn't faint. Not yet. Not when she had to be strong and talk her daughter-in-law out of whatever plan she was nursing.

And that was the source of her strength – she had to be strong for Hermione. The girl was practically falling apart, she could tell. Her solid determination, her blank face, her longs strides – what some might mistake for energy, she recognized as fragility behind a thin shell she was upholding with all her might.

Reaching her room, Hermione walked straight to her wardrobe, and started taking out her clothes. Instead of a heavy trunk, however, she placed them into a backpack, folding everything neatly first, of course.

Narcissa was quite right about her emotional state. Right now she was acting mostly on autopilot with only one thought hammering in her head. She had to get away from here. She needed to think, she needed to cry, she needed to throw things and scream, but she couldn't do it here. She had to go to some faraway place for that. And she had to go now because she wasn't sure how much longer she could suppress the memories of the last hour, and not to think about what had happened.

"Where are you going?" the older woman asked with forced calmness when she came back from the bathroom, the toothbrush and paste in her hand.

Instead of answering she put them into her bag, heaved it to her shoulders, and took a quick look around the room to make sure she hadn't left anything crucial behind.

But Narcissa was not going to let her go just like that. Standing in the doorway she refused to let her past, knowing very well that even though the wards had been modified to allow her Apparating inside the house, some rooms were still protected against it.

"Where are you going?" she repeated her question.

Hermione raised her head and gave her a tired look before answering.

"Remember that day you asked me to the Diamond Hall for the first time and I ran away because I couldn't deal with so much? It's the same now – I had to get away then, and I need to get away now."

"You didn't answer my question."

"And I won't. Leave it, Narcissa," she said, and pushed her gently away, slipping out of the room.

"I'll be back," she promised.

Narcissa did hear the crack of Hermione's Disapparition, and with that all her strength was suddenly gone.

Because it was all her fault. Because on the happiest day of her life, she had managed to destroy the happiness of both her son and daughter, with a mere sentence. If it hadn't been for her words, the ceremony would have been in full bloom, and she would have been sitting outside on a white chair, smiling and crying of happiness.

But now she was here – sunken down to the floor, with no one but guilt and misery to keep her company; her daughter had just ran away, and although she had promised to return, Narcissa doubted it; her son had left as well, but she hadn't seen him go, and didn't know where he had gone. Plus there were 500 confused people in the garden. Well, at least the media was having a field day. Better not to read tomorrow's Daily Prophet.

A new beginning, a new era, a new hope – was this what the wedding was supposed to symbolize? Now it only showed that there was no way of getting rid of the ghosts of one's past, that the skeletons in the closet were only waiting for the best moment to jump out and scare away everything nice and good.

So it seemed that in addition to taking away the happiness of the two people she cared most about in her life, she had also taken away the hope from all Wizarding world. A second chance to make amends, she had told Hermione months ago on that fateful night. Some amends indeed.

She probably deserved being bashed to death by the angry mob, but she still raised her hand, and with one careless move the Manor was closed to everyone but those who shared her blood. Except for Hermione, of course. But she wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

With a sigh, Narcissa dropped her head against the doorframe and closed her eyes. Perhaps it was all a bad dream. Or perhaps happiness was not meant for the Malfoys.

---

"What happened?" Harry demanded from Ginny for the umpteenth time, while Ron was busy with calming down Hannah, Angelina had gone to look for Fred, and by the distant howls and cries, Susan was up to raise panic among the people. Not that they needed any more of it. There were some sitting at their seats with that intolerable superior smile telling everyone that they had known this was going to happen; there were some simply too confused, or too surprised to make a move; then there was the press of course, grinning wildly, flashing their cameras, and asking everybody their opinion on the cancellation of the wedding. But most of the people were bustling around, talking or crying or shouting, bumping into each other, and stumbling over chairs and tables. Those who had come up with the idea of checking inside the house had found it all locked up, and none of their spells seemed to work.

Hermione's closest friends had quickly slipped away from the noise and hustle, seeking refuge behind a corner of the house, but making certain to take peeks regularly, in case of any new development.

"I've told you for a thousand times already," Ginny cried out in frustration. "I don't know!"

"But surely you know something," Harry insisted. "You were with her before the wedding."

"Yes, and everything was fine!" Ginny exclaimed. "Brilliant! Wonderful! Fabulous! Hermione was happy, and we were laughing, and Hannah got emotional, and Susan went crazy over one half-melted ice sculpture. Everything was fantastic!"

"Then what happened?"

"I don't know!" she wailed. "One moment everything was fine, but then we went back and Hermione was gone, and we looked for her everywhere and asked everyone but no one knew anything. And then we went to look for Malfoy, but he was gone too!"

Harry frowned, trying to make something out from those bits of information. It felt like putting together a 5000-piece puzzle of a snow-covered field. Or cloudless sky.

"You don't think that..." he started slowly, hoping her to finish the sentence for him. And that she did.

"That they eloped?" Ginny snapped. "No way! Hermione would have never done it without telling us first."

"Of course," he said quickly. "But what about..."

"No, Malfoy did not kidnap her either!"

"I wasn't thinking that," Harry said honestly, although now that it was mentioned, he had to consider it. Just for the sake of considering all the options, however ridiculous they were.

"What were you thinking then, Harry James Potter?" Ginny demanded, pointing her finger at him in a threatening manner, although it wasn't necessary – calling him by his full name made it perfectly clear that he was in big trouble.

"What if something bad happened? They both have enemies," he explained his theory in full seriousness.

Ginny dropped her finger, and thought about it with a frown. She really didn't like that idea.

"The place is heavily warded," she said at last. "And the guests were thoroughly checked. They took all the precautions. Hermione said she didn't like suspecting their guests in all evil like that, but with some of the Death Eaters still on the loose..."

"You were supposed to keep your eye on her!" Ron joined the conversation.

"We did!" Hannah cried. "But then Mrs. Malfoy came and..."

Sudden silence overtook their refuge as all four people considered that fact, which Ginny had managed to forget in the overall chaos.

"She did look a bit troubled," she said now, thinking back to the moment she had opened the door to the woman. "But I just thought it was about the wedding, you know, all the last minute preparations and everything."

"What do you think?" Ron turned to his friend.

"I have no idea," Harry shook his head. "But Mrs. Malfoy should know more about it."

"But we can't get into the house!"

Harry stared at the solid stone wall beside him.

"Perhaps we can owl her?" he suggested at last.

---

Distance helped. Just not very much, Hermione realized, curled into a ball on the bed and sobbing into the pillow. She had broken out in tears the moment she had got there, and now, hours later, things had not improved. Not even a bit. She was still crying, still hurting, and still awake. She knew she needed a rest, but sleep refused to come, and it seemed that nothing short of Stupefying herself would grant her the sweet oblivion. But she had left her wand in the other room, and was too weak and tired to get up.

As the last resort, she turned back to her memories, recalling the events that happened not hours but months ago.

---

Narcissa had asked her to tea. Five o'clock in the Manor. Which meant that now at five minutes to five, Hermione was making her way slowly to the parlor, pausing behind every corner and taking a peek first to make sure the coast was clear.

Mrs. Malfoy had told her that Draco wouldn't be home, but she knew better than to trust her word. Now after her confession about their first date, the woman had tried everything to get them together again, but this far Hermione had managed to see through all her plans.

Of course, so far she had avoided coming into the Manor, always meeting in some neutral place like in the Diamond Hall, or in her bookshop (which was doing better already, after the insertion of comfy armchairs, and some advertising in both Muggle and magical papers).

In the end, however, Narcissa had put her foot down and asked her into her house, and Hermione was rather sure there was some cunning plan behind this. Not that there was actually any need for a cunning plan since Draco lived there anyway.

Finally making it into the luckily empty parlor, she heaved a sigh of relief and sat down at the small table before the fireplace. Of course, the evening was not yet over, and a lot could happen during the hours of her stay, as Hermione realized after ten minutes when Narcissa hadn't shown up yet.

Great plan, Hermione thought. Nice and simple – get her there and then leave her alone. But damn her if she was going to stay there waiting like that forever, or at least until Draco decided to drop in. Making up her mind, she rose from the table, when the door finally opened.

But Hermione knew without looking that it wasn't Narcissa who entered.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded darkly.

'I was just leaving', she was about to say and do exactly that, but then realized that leaving would mean turning around and facing Malfoy and seeing that ugly sneer that was definitely on his face.

"I was supposed to meet with your mother," she said instead, and sat back down.

"But Mother is in Paris tonight," Draco said, too surprised to torture her, it seemed.

Hermione glared at the portrait of Draco's great-granduncle. He stared right back at her, but her glare was angry enough to rival his. So Narcissa had not just gone away, she had gone away to another country.

"I see," she pressed through her teeth, willing him to go away. Empty hopes.

"I haven't seen you around for a while," Malfoy commented, stepping away from the door and closing it behind him.

The lack of malice or contempt in his voice surprised her greatly, and against her will, it also made her feel a bit better.

"We've been meeting in the Diamond Hall," she said casually. "And at Worthy Words."

"Oh, your bookshop," he said, and she was even more shocked of him knowing this.

"I saw the advertisement in the Prophet," he continued. "I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, though. It's nasty enough to have the shop in Muggle London, but to have to deal with the likes of you there..."

"The shop is doing fine, thank you," Hermione said coldly. "And no one has asked you to come there. In fact, I would really appreciate it if you didn't."

"If you think I'd step a foot into a place filled with filthy Muggles, you are a lot more stupid than I thought."

"Good," Hermione said, stood up, and sent him an icy glare. "It would be bad for the business to deal with the likes of you there."

---

The next day Malfoy had shown up at Worthy Words. Managing to hide herself behind a bookshelf in time and thanking all the deities for that, Hermione watched him look around in the shop first, then move over to a shelf and start browsing the books. True to his character, he gave the Muggle ones a filthy look, but once he found the magical literature, the sneer disappeared from his face.

In fact, he found some of them rather interesting, taking them off the shelf, and skimming through, and even weighing them in his hand as if thinking whether to buy them or not.

"Can I help you, sir?" Hermione asked pleasantly, stepping out from her hiding place.

He didn't even look at her, and that was his mistake.

"Do you have the newest edition of _Arithmetic Algorithms_?"

"Of course we do," she spoke in a kind voice. "It's just on your right."

Malfoy looked in the said direction, and noticing the tome, grabbed it quickly, muttering something like 'Wonderful!' under his breath.

"Thanks," he muttered absent-mindedly and walked towards the counter to make the purchase, leaving Hermione behind with a smirk on her face.

---

It was the afternoon sun that managed to wake her the next day, but the moment she opened her eyes, all the events from the previous day came rushing back to her, in addition to the horrible headache and general lousy feeling. Turning to lie on her back, Hermione stared at the beige ceiling for a while, not one bit willing to get up any time soon.

Truth be told, she really didn't mind staying in the bed for ever, or at least for years. But the rational part of her brain, which she couldn't manage to suppress, told her that she had to deal with all this sooner or later. No, she had to deal with it sooner. Later she had to go back.

Go back. To all those people who knew her and were going to ask hundreds of questions, or try to comfort her, which was almost as bad. Because sometimes comfort wasn't enough, sometimes it only reminded the other kind of comfort which was now denied to her. And the media. The story was all over the Daily Prophet, that was certain. The news of the cancellation of the wedding, the photos of her standing there and announcing that, and of course speculations over the reason. Lots of theories, each worst than the one before it. But the irony was that the truth was probably a lot more awful than any of their lies.

She didn't want to go back, but she had to. And not only for her friends who were crazy with worry about her by now, or for the Worthy Words bookshop that needed her. But because she had promised Narcissa, who had become a mother to her. Poor Narcissa! She had looked so calm and composed when she had left, but in reality she had been on the verge of a breakdown, just like her. She would blame herself for it, for making both his son and daughter miserable. Poor Narcissa! It wasn't her fault. At least, it wasn't only her fault. She had to go back and tell her that. To make her understand that.

And she would go back. Later. First she had to get over it. Continue her life? But how, how could she do that? Her rational thinking said that getting up now was the first step. Standing up from the bed, having a shower, and changing clothes. She didn't want to become one of those crazy old ladies still wearing their wedding dress after fifty years, not washing themselves and ending up smelly, dirty, and with lice.

She had to learn to live again. And getting up was the first step. She could do it, couldn't she? Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Perhaps tomorrow.

---

They still hated each other for a while after their first date. At least Malfoy hated her, and she hated him for hating her. And then she hated her for not hating him. And Hermione was sure she would have given up on him, had Narcissa not been there to always change her mind.

"Give him some time," she said.

"I know what I said about the night of the dinner," Hermione brought up that topic again. She often talked about it with Narcissa because she needed to talk about it with someone, and there was no one else. "But perhaps I was wrong."

"Don't fight against your feelings, darling. They always win."

"Not my feelings," she replied softly. "I gave up fighting against them a long time ago. It got too hard to deny them. So I stopped."

"So if not your feelings then what do you doubt?" Narcissa inquired.

"His feelings."

The woman smiled.

"You're smarter than him," she said. "He is still in denial. But don't doubt his feelings. To me they are crystal clear."

"How can I not?" Hermione argued, like she always did. "He hates me. He insults me. He snaps and sneers and smirks at me as often as possible."

"Exactly!" Narcissa beamed, as if this proved her point.

"Exactly," Hermione repeated. "He hates me."

"Don't be silly, girl," she made a careless wave with her hand. "You say he insults you, snaps at you, sneers at you, smirks at you."

"He does."

"I know," Narcissa said with a smirk of her own. "But I say, if he really hated you, despised you, couldn't stand you, then why would he be taking every opportunity he can to see you, to talk to you, to watch you?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but Narcissa cut her through.

"He always asks me whether I have invited you over. And he always makes a sour face when I say I have. But he never leaves. I know for certain that once he cancelled one of his appointments to stay at home while you came here."

"But that only shows he hates me so much he is ready for everything to just make me feel bad!"

Narcissa smiled again, a bit evilly this time.

"You don't know my Draco. Despite everything, he is still his father's son."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione frowned.

"It means that if he wanted to revenge you, he would have found a way. Perhaps he does hate you a bit, but only because he doesn't hate you."

"Just like I hate him a bit because I don't hate him at all," she spoke quietly, thinking out aloud.

"Exactly. You are so alike, my dears, so alike."

"Who are so alike, Mother?" Draco asked from the doorway.

But Narcissa only gave him a cryptic smile.

"We should all go out to dinner," she suggested after a while.

"I'm busy tonight, Mother."

"I should really get going."

"So intent on ignoring each other, darlings. So intent on pretending to hate each other. Both too proud, and too stubborn. Both so intent on making life harder for themselves. Where you could so easily just kiss and make up—" Hermione blushed and looked away, therefore not noticing the expression on his face, the one that asked, pleaded, and threatened his mother to stop talking right now "—you just have to choose the hard way. And you ask me, dear, who are so alike."

Both Draco and Hermione muttered something like 'rubbish' under their breaths, but they couldn't get away from that dinner, which resulted in another wonderful night for all three of them.

At least until Narcissa announced she was getting too tired and was going home, insisting them to continue their meals.

"Have fun, children!" was her good-bye to them.

"And she has done it again," Hermione sighed dramatically, making Draco chuckle until he remembered himself.

"All right, she is gone, you can make yourself scarce now," he informed her coolly.

"I haven't finished yet," she answered stiffly. "But you can leave. Didn't you say you were busy tonight?"

"Only to escape from spending time with your pathetic self," he sneered at her.

Hermione raised her glance and gave him a long calculating look, one that started to make him uncomfortable in the end.

"I know I'm gorgeous, Granger, but your chances with me are in the negative."

"Then why do I recall you kissing me?" she retorted.

Draco looked a bit taken aback. Perhaps because that was their taboo topic. Something they definitely didn't discuss, or even mention, or even think about, or at least didn't let it show that they were constantly thinking about it.

"That was nothing but..."

"You don't call me a Mudblood anymore," Hermione stated.

"How terrible of me. Mudblood. Happy?"

"I'm starting to think Narcissa is right about us," she said with a little shrug, turning back to her food, leaving Draco stare at her with his mouth open.

They finished their meals in silence.

But Draco couldn't let her get away with that.

"I'll prove you wrong, Granger," he hissed to her.

"How?" she smirked.

"Tomorrow, 8 o'clock. La Passione," he said, then added quickly, "Mudblood."

"Will be there, Ferret," she smiled in assent, and watching Draco Floo away, wondered whether he realized that he had just asked her out on a date.

---

She liked the way the moonlight made his hair and eyes glow like liquid silver. But now there was only moonlight, shining upon her lonely form on the bed. She really needed to get up. She needed to drink and eat, but not because she wanted to. She just had to. To stay alive, or something like that. Of course, it would have been rather poetic to die of a broken heart. But others would not appreciate it, probably. Except the media, they would love it. But her friends might start to blame Narcissa or Draco for this, and she didn't want that to happen. Plus, she had promised Narcissa to come back.

Would Draco mind it if she died? Would he cry? Would he grieve? Would he feel a bit guilty? Or would he think she got what she deserved?

The moon was crescent. No werewolves tonight.

Hermione sat up on the bed. She had to owl Ron and Harry. Otherwise they would keep looking for her, and perhaps even find her. She couldn't let that happen. They would force her to live again, but she had to learn on her own. Slowly. Ever so slowly.

Slowly, ever so slowly did she move her feet over the edge of the bed, and raised herself until they touched the floor. It was warm. She sat up properly, and shivered, the heating charms not sufficient to take away her cold. The moonlight had always been so soft and caring, yet now it cut ruthlessly through the darkness of the night, making her feel lonelier, emptier, and colder than before. She had to get out of the bed, and out of the room.

With a deep breath she rose to her feet. It did feel like standing for the first time in her life, and just like her actual first time, it didn't last. The floor was warm beneath her, as Hermione rested her cheek against it, and wondered whether it was really worth this. Lying in the bed had been a bit more comfortable, but the floor was warm at least. Perhaps she could stay there for a while longer.

She dreamed of Narcissa.

"Be strong," the woman told her. "Don't give up. As long as there is life, there is hope. And as long as there is hope, anything is possible. You have always been so stubborn – don't stop it now."

---

"What does it say?" Ginny asked, peeking over Harry's shoulder. Ron was doing the same, just like Angelina, Hannah, and Susan. In the lack of a better plan they had indeed owled Narcissa, and now finally the answer had come.

Harry tried his best to read the letter with five people bustling around him. It wasn't easy, but the letter was relatively short.

"Tells us not to worry, she will be back, she just had to think about some stuff, but it's her business to explain us everything," he said, holding out the parchment for whoever managed to grab it first.

"What stuff?"

"Is that all?"

"What do you think happened?"

"Let me read this!"

But no matter who read it, the letter stayed the same, telling them nothing more.

"Something definitely happened," Ron noted.

"Thanks for stating the obvious," Ginny scoffed at him.

"Perhaps she changed her mind about the marriage?" he offered, ignoring his sister.

"No way. You should have seen how happy she was just moments before it."

"Yes, she was very happy," both Hannah and Angelina confirmed.

"But something still went wrong."

---

"Something wrong?" Draco asked his mother, finding her by the fireplace in the middle of the night.

"Just wanted to know how your date went," she smiled, standing up to face him.

"What date?" Draco scowled.

"Don't play stupid with me, darling," she warned. "Your date with Hermione, of course."

His face went blank for a second, trying to figure out which way to play – confess, or not to confess. But it would have been pointless to lie, since she could tell whether he was not speaking the truth.

"Does she tell you everything?"

"I can be rather persuasive when I want to," Narcissa smiled.

"I know, Mother."

"Good. Then you also know that I'm not letting you get away this time without at least some details of your evening. Come, sit down, and tell me."

But Draco preferred remaining at the threshold.

"No need, Mother. There's nothing to tell. We didn't go on a date together."

"How so?" Narcissa frowned.

"It's very simple, Mother," he said with a smirk. "She was starting to think that all the rubbish you said about me the other day had some truth in it, and I just proved her wrong."

Narcissa's expression darkened.

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"Nothing. Just proved that I would never go out on a date with her out of my free will."

"What did you say to her?"

"Again, nothing. Didn't see her tonight. I wonder, is she still sitting at La Passione, or has she finally realized I don't give a damn about her?"

Narcissa took a deep breath to calm down. It didn't help much.

"Are you telling me," she asked dangerously, "that you stood her up?"

"Yes," he said, and smiled. "I hope this will also prove you wrong about these little stupid ideas of yours."

Narcissa was very, very angry. She also knew that all those little stupid ideas of hers were 100 percent true, but ruining the best thing in his life to keep his denial intact was just like something her son would do. Well, she wouldn't let him do it.

"You are my son, Draco, and I love you," she spoke. "But if what you tell me is true and you indeed stood her up, then by the name of Morgana..."

Raising her head she saw Draco smiling. And not an evil smile, or a fake smile, or a sneering smile, but a truly amused one.

"What are you smiling at?" she snapped.

"Your threats are empty, Mother."

"Empty? Empty!" Narcissa shouted. "I'll show you empty threats. It's too late now but the first thing tomorrow morning you will go straight to Hermione and apologize, on your knees if necessary."

"No need for that," another voice spoke from the doorway, and Hermione herself stepped into the room.

Narcissa opened her mouth to either apologize, or order Draco to apologize, but halted in her words upon seeing the look on the girl's face. Not anger, not hurt, not disappointment. Quite the opposite, actually – she was smiling.

"Sorry about that," she said, seeing Narcissa's confused expression. "He asked me to tell you himself, and I was a bit distracted to see through his intentions."

Hermione smirked, grinned, and blushed.

"You mean," Narcissa started slowly, placing the pieces together, "that he did not stand you up?"

"Oh, he tried!" Hermione snickered. "Found him sneaking around the restaurant and dragged him in."

"Hey!" Draco hurried to protest. "I wasn't the only one sneaking around that restaurant."

"Well, I was only sneaking around it to catch you sneaking around it. Which I did, by the way."

"That's what you say now. But perhaps in reality **you** were trying to stand **me** up," he accused.

"Oh, but why would I want to stand you up?" Hermione gave him a sweet, yet seductive smile, which didn't do good to his thinking process.

"Because I've been awful to you?" he suggested earnestly, missing his mother's very unladylike snort at that.

"You have," she nodded, and with the disappearance of her smile his eyes turned almost desperate.

"But I forgive you," she continued, and pressed a chaste kiss against his lips. He snaked his arms around her, and held her close for a long moment, neither of them paying any attention to Narcissa, or her maniacal grin.

After a while Hermione pulled away.

"I have to go now," she said a bit sadly. "I'm having a busy day tomorrow."

"But it's Saturday," he whined.

"Yes, but it's also the date of our monthly Quidditch Quest," she explained.

"Your what?" he asked in surprise.

"Quidditch Quest," she sniggered. "Harry and Ron are organizing one every month at the Burrow, to get all our friends together and spend a glorious day, catching up, and chatting, and playing Quidditch, of course."

"But I thought you didn't like Quidditch?" he frowned.

"I don't. I'll go for the company."

"Oh. I suppose I won't see you tomorrow then. Have fun!" he tried to sound cheerful, but she could see he was disappointed.

"You know," Hermione said, standing by the fireplace with Floo-powder in her hand. "We are allowed to bring guests."

---

The floor beneath her was warm, and the hot sun spilled its rays onto her back. She still shivered when she opened her eyes, though, squinting them in this brilliant light. Her muscles protested from her lie on the floor, but she cherished that pain since it took some part of her mind off the other one.

Hermione decided that if she wanted to get up, she had better do it right away, while she still could. Slowly she placed her palms upon the warm floor, either side of her body, but before pushing with all her might, she took a moment to consider whether this was really what she wanted.

With the final conclusion that it was, she took a deep breath, and pushed. Her whole body cried out in pain and fatigue, but she didn't give up, not now when she was determined to do this. Drawing her legs closer to her body, she made one more effort, and fell onto her bum, now sitting up in the sun.

Progress.

After a short rest, she was able to crawl to the bed, and with the help of it, raise to her shaky legs. She sat down again, but resisted the temptation to lie down, instead concentrating on her next move. Her wand was in the other room, and she was determined to reach it.

Much later she was sitting in the kitchen, breathless but momentarily happy at having achieved her goal. Too tired to think or feel or remember, she stared blankly at the whiteness before her. White, cold, and frosty was the view that opened up to her, and after a while of staring she picked up the spoon and broke through its achromatic unblemished surface.

Afterwards she would remember all the naughty things they had used the ice-cream for, and her numbness would retreat in face of pain, but right now she cherished its frozen sweetness in her mouth.

---

"Remember the time she brought him to our Quidditch Day?" Ginny asked with a half-nostalgic half-concerned smile.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, then turned to his friend. "I remember your face that day, Harry. You looked so surprised and shocked as if... you had just got the biggest surprise of your life," he finished lamely, not able to think up anything that would rival his shock that day.

"If I recall correctly," Harry winked back, "you weren't quite comfy yourself either. Kept sending these surreptitious glances at Malfoy, expecting him to murder someone any moment then."

"Yes, well," Ron blushed. "It was Malfoy, after all, at **my** house! You would have done the same in my place."

"You did the same thing," Ginny reminded them.

---

"I'll get it!" Ginny cried, jumping down the stairs. "It's probably Hermione."

She paused for a second at the door to collect her breath, then flung it open, and welcomed them with a huge grin.

"Hermione!" she squealed, throwing her arms around the other girl. "I'm so glad you came."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermione muttered into bright red hair, deciding that she didn't really need to breathe at the moment anyway. When the need came, however, it was still rather impossible.

"You can let me go now, Ginny," she informed the girl.

"Oh!" the redhead exclaimed, and pulled away. "But I'm so glad to see you!"

"I figured that much," she rolled her eyes, and someone beside her snorted. Ginny's brain made the connection at light speed, although the fact that Hermione had told her about it beforehand made it a bit easier for her.

"You brought a date!" she cried in joy, and turned her brilliant smile towards Hermione's date.

And kept staring for a long moment, her smile frozen on her face.

"Hello, Weasley," Draco said at last, breaking the silence. "Nice to see you."

Ginny stared at him in shock – blond hair, grey eyes, Malfoy's looks, Malfoy's smirk, Malfoy's everything. It most certainly would have been Malfoy, if he hadn't been standing behind their door, being polite, and resting his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Erm. Was this what temporary insanity felt like? Or had Fred or George slipped something into her drink?

When the image before her eyes didn't change, Ginny decided she needed another opinion on the matter, which presented itself six seconds later, in the form of Harry.

"Oh, hi, Hermione," he said with a smile, moving towards the doorway.

"Glad to have you here. And hello to..." but he stopped there, having caught sight of the other person standing at the doorway.

When Harry failed to say anything for a while longer, Ginny finally poked his arm.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" she whispered, loud enough for all four of them to hear.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "It depends on what you're seeing."

"I think I see a Ferret," she confessed.

He gulped.

"Then I'm afraid I'm seeing what you're seeing."

They both turned to Hermione again, who was glaring at them, although there was something amused in her gaze.

"Hermione," Harry's tone was pleading. "Why is Malfoy standing behind our door?"

If she had answered with 'Malfoy? What? Where? Are you alright?', both Harry and Ginny would have believed her, and sighed in relief. Unfortunately, she didn't.

"You said I could bring a date," she said instead. "And I did."

"But... but," he tried, then gave up, and turned to Ginny for assistance.

"But he's Malfoy?" the redhead voiced the thought Harry's brain hadn't managed to put together, then wondered why it had sounded more like a question than a fact.

"I told you I had befriended Narcissa," she spoke casually. "May we come in now?"

Without a word Harry and Ginny had stepped away to let them pass – what else could they have done?

---

"I was too shocked to even yell," Harry remembered.

"We all were," Ginny nodded.

"Yeah," Ron concurred.

They sat in silence for a while, thinking back to that day, until Ginny recalled that they had cause to worry about the present.

"It's been a week," she said.

"She'll be all right. She's Hermione, after all," Ron spoke up, although there was a clear note of doubt in his tone.

"If only she would write to us," Harry wished. "Then we would know she is fine, at least."

"Well, if she is out of the country, it takes her owl some time to get here."

They all agreed to that, but couldn't quite lose their concern.

---

After the ice-cream, things had gone better. Well, they had still gone a bit worse in the beginning, but instead of her lethargic behaviour, she had wrought chaos upon the place, throwing, burning, and breaking all the things she managed, then cried herself empty amongst the mess again.

But that was progress, too. Anger was good, and she tried to preserve it as long as she could. With red anger and clear fury she had torn off her wedding dress, scrubbed herself clean under almost scalding water, and cleaned the place up afterwards. She didn't know who she was angry at, other than the world, the fate, and all the deities, but as long as it was beneficial to her, she didn't really care.

Yet she couldn't stay angry forever. At night under the silver moonlight even her fury abandoned her, and she had no other option but to cry herself to sleep once again.

The metal on the necklace was cool against her skin, telling her that she hadn't managed to clear away all the reminders of what should have been the happiest day of her life. While her white dress was dirty and torn, the diamonds around her neck were as brilliant as ever before. They were Narcissa's, and that's why she didn't take them off.

---

"Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue," Narcissa chanted with twinkling eyes.

"I thought this was only a Muggle custom," Hermione raised her brows.

"It is," the other woman confirmed. "But I like it."

"Well, the dress is new," she smiled. "And I'm going to borrow that tiara Fleur wore in her wedding. That leaves the old and the blue."

"I've got something for you," Narcissa announced, producing a box covered with dark green velvet, and handed it to her future daughter-in-law.

"Open it," she instructed, and Hermione obeyed.

"Narcissa, that's," she began, but halted, staring at the necklace in wonder. The diamonds sparkled against the dark material like stars in the sky, and even though she was not a girl too much into jewels and material things, she was able to recognize beauty when she saw it.

"This is amazing," she spoke at last.

"No," Narcissa shook her head. "These are just stones. **You** are amazing."

"Are these yours?" Hermione managed to ask, sliding her fingers over the cool silver and diamonds.

"Yes. I wore them at my wedding day. But they are very old, been in the family for centuries."

"Ah, the Malfoy riches," she nodded, thinking about all the others who had worn this necklace before her, realizing she was probably the first not pureblood to touch it.

"Not the Malfoy," Narcissa said, taking a seat by her side, and glancing at the masterpiece of jewelry. "These belong to the Black dynasty."

"Thank you for letting me wear these," she muttered after a while.

"You misunderstood me," Narcissa chuckled, making Hermione frown. She had shown her the jewels she had worn for her wedding, but didn't let her have them? Although, that wasn't so surprising at all, the Blacks were just another pureblood family, Toujours Pur, as their motto said, and it would have been a blasphemy to let a Mudblood have something so precious.

"I understand," Hermione said with a sigh, forcing her voice not to sound disappointed. "Thank you for showing them to me anyway, they are very beautiful."

Narcissa opened her mouth in obvious protest, but she cut her through.

"I'm not angry with you, really," she tried to convince both of them. "I understand that your family had some... standards, and it's really not suitable for me to break them."

It was difficult for her to speak those words, and she also felt tears in her throat. Narcissa had been so kind and supportive and loving towards her, but of course it was too much to ask of her to put aside all the principles that had been taught to her from her childhood.

"I meant," the older woman said, her tone oddly crisp, "that these are not for you to wear. I'm giving them to you, for real."

Hermione's mouth opened in surprise.

"Do you still think I care for your blood?" she inquired sadly. "Or for the stupid blood issue at all? Do you still think that of me?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "No! Oh Merlin, Narcissa, I'm so sorry for my words, I didn't think. Of course I don't think ill of you."

"You are like a mother to me," she whispered, giving her a warm hug.

---

"Mummy," Hermione whispered, and drifted off to sleep, her hand clasping the necklace, its diamonds shining in the moonlight, their beauty equal to their heavenly sisters'.

---

When she had left she had been clad in white; now, ten days later, she wore black. It was ironic how things liked to turn to their complete opposites – enemies became lovers, happiness became sorrow, white became black. And life became death.

"We have gathered here today to bide our farewells to..."

She didn't listen to the speech. She didn't have to, and she didn't want to. The loose dirt, the hole, the headstone, and the flowers told her everything she didn't want to know, everything she wanted to run away from but couldn't, since her feet had grown into the earth as roots of a tree, and refused to move.

And she couldn't go because another hand was gripping hers, so strongly that she could almost feel her bones cracking. In another situation she would have cried out in pain, but now she did nothing to save herself from the hurt.

Because she deserved this. Because she deserved worst. Because she had left her alone when she had most needed her, and although she had kept her promise about coming back, it had been too late.

It seemed that Narcissa Malfoy had done exactly what Hermione had considered doing – died from a broken heart.

Too late she had come back. Too late. And why? Because her own selfish reasons, her own selfish pain had kept her away. She had been hurting and that's why she left, not once considering what her departure might do to other people.

Narcissa had died because of her selfishness, and there was nothing she could do to make it up.

As powerful as the Wizarding world was, even they could not bring back the dead.

The speaker was still droning on and on about one thing or another, when in a sudden need to get closer to the woman lying dead in the white coffin, Hermione fell to her knees on the ground. People started to fuss about her, they ran to her and they tried to pull her up, but she fisted her hands into the dark earth, and refused to go anywhere.

"Mummy," she said. She had only called her that twice – once in her faraway refuge while crying herself to sleep, and now here by her grave. Twice she had called her that, but never had Narcissa heard her. And now, she never would.

Hands were still attempting to pull her up, but they could have been trying to move a mountain for all their effort was worth.

"I came back, Mummy." Third time, but she still couldn't hear it. "I promised to, and I'm here now. I promised to. I promised. I promised."

But it didn't matter that she kept her promise because even wizards couldn't resurrect the dead.

The hands had stopped pulling her. Now they were embracing her, holding her, comforting her, and she knew who they belonged to. But she still pushed them away, pushed him away, no matter how hard or painful it was to her to do it. But she couldn't, she couldn't.

Because Narcissa's death could not bring them back together. It was wrong. Because that way it would have been good in some respect, yet it wasn't. And because then it would have seemed like it had all been Narcissa's fault, which she had redeemed with her death.

And that was wrong. That was so wrong.

Hermione lay her cheek against the cold damp earth. Nobody tried to bother her anymore, they had all given up on the lost cause that she was. Perhaps they blamed her for everything, and they were right.

Perhaps he blamed her for everything, and he was right. Because it **had** been her fault. Because she had been too late.

"Mummy," she repeated over and over again. But she was dead, and didn't hear it.

---

Hermione opened her eyes to whiteness. Blinking to clear her vision, her first thought was that she was dead. But the yearned peace didn't fill her heart, instead came dread and worry, a certain indication that she was, in fact, still among the living.

She turned and stared again. But it wasn't all white, anymore. Now it was... beige?

Hermione sat up in bed as both horror and relief flooded over her. She was still here, in this bed, alone, and never before had she been so glad of it. Because that could only mean one – night had ended, and so had her nightmare.

Narcissa was not dead. She had been just dreaming.

In tremendous relief and happiness she sunk back down, resting her cheek on the creamy pillow instead of damp soil.

Nightmares were fine, nightmares she could live with. They had been there for her every night on those months after the war, and she had grown rather used to them. Although the dread and horror and strain had been awful, the relief at waking up had managed to wash all those bad feelings away. As long as she could still wake up in the morning, nightmares didn't bother her.

But they had bothered him.

---

Someone was shaking her. Perhaps some new curse from Voldemort, or perhaps one of his Death Eaters, or perhaps this was what death felt like. Whatever the case, it didn't really matter since there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

"Hermione, wake up!"

Perhaps she should scream? In lack of a better idea, she did exactly that, and the shaking stopped. Now she was being crushed instead.

Hermione wanted to frown in annoyance of Voldemort's bothersome ways of torture, and she opened her eyes to give him a piece of her mind about it. But all she could see was darkness, and all she could feel now was someone's warm breath against her neck, and strong arms around her.

"Shush, it's going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right. You are safe, no one can hurt you, everything is going to be just fine. It was just a bad dream, nothing but a bad dream."

Realizing that this was exactly what had happened, she nodded against his shoulder, and brought her arms around his body, hugging him back.

After a while, when he had made sure she was indeed awake and alright, he lay them down again, his arms cradling her close to him. She made an appreciative mewl, and snuggled even closer, feeling good and ready to fall back to sleep.

But he didn't let her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," Hermione muttered, sinking into the sweet waves of the sea of dreams. She didn't feel him stiffen a bit nor tighten his hold of her, but she couldn't miss his question since he spoke it straight into her ear.

"What was it?"

"Same as always. Go back to sleep."

But he didn't grant her wish.

"Same as **always**?" he asked instead, rather sharply.

"Yes," she replied, not realizing why it bothered him so much that he had to keep her awake.

"You have seen it before?" his tone was dark.

If Hermione hadn't been half-asleep, she would have realized his point, and calmed him down, but now she didn't and spoke the unpolished truth.

"Many times. Almost every night right after the war. Sometimes twice a night."

But she had mistaken gravely with thinking that an explanation would get him off her back. Instead, it did the complete opposite.

Draco sat up on the bed, and pulled her up as well, not stopping until she was wide awake once again.

"You have them that often?" he inquired.

"Not anymore. Now it's just once or twice a week."

"A week?"

Hermione was wide awake, tired, sleepy, and annoyed.

"Oh, let it go, Draco. It's nothing, really. Just a bad dream, no need to overreact like that. You know, I'm actually grown rather used to them. I mean, what life would it be if Voldemort didn't try to murder and torture me once in a while."

She tried to turn it into a joke, but her tone had been sharp, most for her sleepiness and annoyance, and it had startled Draco into staring at her in shock, giving her the opportunity to lie back down, and try to get some sleep.

No such luck.

"This is serious, Hermione. Have you done anything to stop them?"

"No, I haven't," she snapped at him. "And I won't. As long as I can wake up, they don't bother me."

"They bother me," he protested.

Hermione was getting really angry now. She had a busy day tomorrow, and she needed to sleep. They had already spent half the night making love, and though she didn't mind that, spending the rest of it with some empty talk seemed like a real waste of time to her.

"Nobody asked you to stay the night," she bit coldly. "Go back home if my screaming disturbs your precious beauty sleep."

He didn't answer, and she was too sleepy and too grateful for the silence to think over her hurtful words. In fact, she had almost fallen asleep when he spoke again.

"It hurts me to see you like that," he whispered softly, more to himself than her, but those words cut deeply into her heart, and suddenly all thought of sleep was gone from her mind.

They had spent the rest of the night talking, and making love again, and she had agreed to finding some cure for her nightmares. Not for her sake because the dreams really didn't bother her, but because it hurt her to see him hurt.

---

Two weeks after her departure the idea of going back flashed through Hermione's mind.

She had written a letter to her friends at the end of the first week, telling them not to worry about her. She had wandered around the house, tiding up some things, and looking at others, remembering the happy memories they gave her. She had even gone outside, first to a post-office for an owl, later just for walking around. Back in England she would have never done it, in fear of being recognized and asked questions and reported to her friends, but here she didn't think anyone knew her. She had been here before, but not too often, and even in her walks she tried to stay away from most people.

But as it was, she was getting a bit bored, and started to miss the life she had left behind, that is, other parts of the life than the one that was constantly on her mind. Like Worthy Words. Surely throwing herself into business would help her with dealing with her problems. Surely it would do good for her to actually do something, instead of just sitting at the table or on the bed, and thinking.

Yet she wasn't sure whether she was ready to go back. Here no one had bothered her so far. Back at home she would not only have to explain everything to her friends, but also the press would hunt her down at any cost, and she didn't know whether she was ready for that.

And then, of course, there was Draco. She could ignore him if he let her, but she couldn't ignore Narcissa, and knowing that woman she would lock them up into a room sooner or later to have them sort their problems out. And Hermione wasn't sure whether seeing him wouldn't break her all over again, and send her running to another refuge.

However, there was a way for her to test herself. Standing at the threshold, Hermione looked at the kitchen table, or more specifically at the sole object lying upon it. The Daily Prophet. She had ordered a copy, and now it was here, and she had been gathering her courage to open it up and read.

There was always the comfort that whatever the paper might have come up with, it wouldn't be even close to the reality. Unless Draco had told them, but she doubted it. No, he was too proud to do that because it would have put him in the bad light as well. Not to mention his mother, who he loved with all his heart. And Narcissa wouldn't have done it either, for the same reasons, and no one else but the three of them knew about it.

But the Prophet knew about the cancellation of the wedding, and nothing could have stopped them from writing about it. Although, perhaps now, after two weeks they had found something better and moved on, which she severely doubted. No, the news had been a bombshell, and they would be writing about it for a long time.

Hermione picked up the paper. She had to do it, she had to look. It was the next step, and she couldn't go on without taking it. Just like she had to stand up from the floor, just like she had to eat, just like she had to write and post that letter. She had learned to live, now she had to learn to live her life. She couldn't give up, not now, not after all the tears and pain and heartache.

Sitting down at the table, she placed the paper down in front of her, and looked. She didn't need to search for long.

_Bad luck or deserved punishment? _the headline announced, and explained further in a smaller script underneath it: "Almost two weeks after the shocking cancellation of the wedding of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, the Malfoy family receives another blow. Narcissa Malfoy, the widow of the notorious Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, has been struck down by a serious illness, and is currently staying at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, where her situation remains critical..."

For a moment Hermione's brain signals snapped, but then she jumped into full action. Some other might have continued sitting, their mouths open and eyes large in horror, awful thoughts running through their minds. But not her – Hermione knew how to react immediately. In battle one had to react at once because at the next moment they might be dead.

She leapt to her feet and grabbed her wand, and then she was already gone.

Pushing her way out of St. Mungo's Apparition area, Hermione roughly made it towards the reception table. She pushed people away without the smallest tint of remorse, in fact, she barely noticed them. The chatter and clatter of the mob might have been too much to her ears after being used to only silence, but she was able to tune that out as well.

"Which room is Narcissa Malfoy in?" she demanded at once, having reached the table, and ignoring the protests of all those she had rudely pushed away.

"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to give out such information," the witch there said, not even raising her head to look at her.

"I need to know," Hermione insisted.

"I'm sorry, Miss, only members of family can see her."

Hermione actually considered hexing the reception witch then and there, but her mind told her it would do more trouble than good. There would be a chaos, and the security would quickly curse her down, and she wouldn't be able to get to Narcissa.

But she was angry, and she didn't mask it behind good manners.

"I am her daughter," she growled darkly.

"Mrs. Malfoy does not have a daughter," the witch remained unrelenting.

"Her daughter-in-law," Hermione snapped, gripping her wand more tightly.

"Mrs. Malfoy does not..." the witch started, but didn't get much further.

"Does the name Hermione Granger tell you anything? It should because it has been all over the papers for months. Now I'm here, and I'm angry, and perhaps I'm not legally Narcissa's daughter-in-law, but I am the person who is holding their wand towards you at the moment, and you better tell me the number of her room right now before you make me lose it completely."

Finally the witch looked up, at the wand pointing towards her, and at its owner; and even though the woman with tired eyes and pale face differed from the one with radiant smile and healthy complexion whose picture had indeed been in the paper for months, she was able to see the resemblances as well, mostly thanks to the last photo of her, standing in front of the guests in her wedding dress and making that announcement before disappearing for good.

And the reception-witch realized a couple of things. First, every paper would pay a fortune for this piece of news. Second, if she wanted to be the one to call them, she had to do it now. And third, if Hermione Granger really did curse her, she would not be the first one to inform the papers about her appearance. Also, the girl had been part of the war, and Merlin knew what dark curses she was able to perform. Working at the hospital she had seen some pretty nasty stuff, and wasn't very excited about any of it happening to her.

"Room 422," she said quickly, then added, "Miss Granger, what really happened at your wedding day?"

But she had already stormed away, and the witch's question was left unanswered. She didn't let it bother her too much, though.

"Linda," she cried instead. "Watch the table for me for a second, I have to make an urgent call."

---

Running up the stairs of the hospital was the first time Hermione was able to think. Before it had been just one big rush, now her legs knew what had to be done, and her mind could wander off to other things. To other not so pleasant things.

Hermione mentally cursed herself. The dream! She had dreamed about it, and still not acted upon it. And now it was coming true – Narcissa's condition was serious, and should she die...

And oh dear gods, she had even been given a warning. She had had a premonition, but being herself and not believing in divination, she had disregarded it so carelessly. But what if it was true? What if she had been given an opportunity to save the day, but she had been too weak and too selfish to even check whether things were all right?

She reached the fourth floor, and ran into the hallways.

If Narcissa were to die, she would never forgive herself. If Narcissa were to die, she would lay her cheek upon the damp soil just like she had done in her dream, and die as well.

Hermione ran into someone, but continued without stopping, continued without an apology. There would be time for it later. Now she just had to get there, to get back like she had promised to her, to get back in time.

Dear Merlin, dear Gods, dear anyone, please don't let her be late. Please.

She skidded to a halt before the right door, but didn't take the time to prepare herself. Because she didn't have time. Narcissa might have been taking her last breath at this very moment, and she simply could not wait.

Hermione pushed the door open.

"Mummy?" the word left her lips without her even thinking of saying it.

Nobody had called her that for a very long time, in fact, not since Draco's childhood. Nowadays, even in his darkest days, he always called her mother, but never mum, and never mummy. And that's why Narcissa's first thought as she turned her face towards the intruder was that they had simply mistaken with the door.

But as she realized a moment later, they hadn't.

Hermione was standing at the doorway in a sleeveless ivory robe, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes wide with worry. She also noticed the dark bags under her eyes, and the pale hue of her skin, and the overall aura of tiredness, concern, and misery about her.

She didn't move, standing on the threshold as if turned into stone, not letting herself fully believe what she was seeing.

It was Narcissa saying her name in worry which brought her out of her trance, and with another cry of "Mummy" plus movement almost too quick to perceive, she flew to Narcissa's bed, throwing her arms around the older woman, and engulfing her in a tight and desperate hug, which Narcissa returned at once without any hesitation.

Hermione cried, and rambled something about a dream and death, while Narcissa held her close, patting her hair, and shushing her gently. It would be a lie to say that her eyes stayed dry, but those tears were out of relief, and happiness.

After some time which felt like hours but was probably only a couple of minutes, Hermione finally managed to let go, but instead of pulling back she crawled onto the bed, curling into a ball, and rested her head in Narcissa's lap, whose hand was still stroking her head.

"Mummy," she said again, thinking how she was finally able to hear it.

"It's all right, sweetie," Narcissa answered with a smile, not able to describe the feeling she had felt at hearing that word even to herself. But it was a good feeling, one of the best, and it almost made her cry again.

"I dreamed you were dead," she sobbed.

"That was just a dream, dearest. I'm all right. As long as you are here, I am all right."

"I shouldn't have left. I should have never left you in that condition. It was so selfish of me to leave you alone like that," she continued tearfully. "Could you ever forgive me?"

"That wasn't your fault, sweetie. There is nothing to forgive."

She sobbed again.

"Will you be all right?" Hermione asked at last, raising her head to look at the other woman.

"I will be fine," Narcissa insisted, and they smiled at each other. "In fact, Draco has just gone to speak to my Healer about releasing me from here."

Hermione laid her head back down, thinking that despite all his hurt and suffering, he had still come back, whereas she had stayed away like the last coward. She was going to say as much, when Narcissa asked her a question.

"Where have you been, darling, these past two weeks?"

"Crete," she answered, glad that she had been asked something so simple instead of harder things, for example, how she was doing.

"Crete," Narcissa repeated, then frowned in thought. "Don't we have a house there?"

Hermione nodded against her lap.

"We do. That is," she corrected herself, "you do."

"You mean you hid yourself in one of our own houses?" Narcissa asked in surprise. If **she** had to leave without a trace, **she** wouldn't pick a place that could be connected to her that easily.

"Yes."

"Isn't that a bit too obvious?" she questioned half-jokingly. "I mean, Draco loved that place. He could have very well gone there himself."

Hermione nodded again.

"Yes, he could have. But he didn't."

The sorrow and misery in her voice made Narcissa realize why she had chosen such an obvious place. She hadn't escaped to not be found, she had escaped to be found. And she had chosen one of Draco's favourite places, hoping that he would come there and find her.

But they had never even thought about it. They had figured that she was a clever witch, and therefore gone to someplace no one could find her from. And they never considered the option that she might have wanted to be found.

"How are you, darling?" Narcissa voiced the question at last.

Hermione sighed, took a deep breath, and told her the truth. The thought of lying never crossed her mind, but this truth was just so hard to speak.

"I don't know," she said, her tears starting to flow again. "Not so good."

"Shh. It's going to be all right, everything is going to be fine."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's not. I feel so empty, so hollow inside, and it hurts, it hurts so much. I might look normal and do my things, but I think about him every second of every day, and it hurts. Oh, Mummy, what am I going to do without him? He is my life, my world, my everything."

---

"Sorry for the long wait, Mother," Draco said, walking into the room. "I couldn't find..."

"Shush," Narcissa cut him through. "She is asleep."

Turning his confused glance towards his mother, Draco's mouth fell open at seeing not one but two most important persons in his life.

"Cried herself to sleep, poor dear," Narcissa continued, sending her son a short but accusing glare. "She looks so tired, like she hasn't had a decent sleep for a fortnight."

Despite his surprise, Draco had managed to catch that look of accusation, and despite everything he couldn't quite disagree with his mother. But he said nothing, and neither did she, turning her glance back to the sleeping girl in her lap, starting to stroke her hair again.

Seeing the love in her eyes, he remembered her first words upon finding her here.

---

When Draco reached the hospital things were stable already and Narcissa out of any danger, not that her condition had been so serious in the first place. Suffering from a panic attack, she had hit herself with a healing spell, which due to her condition and disability to perform it correctly, had knocked her out instead. It was nothing serious, but the Healers still wanted to keep her in for a few days, just to make sure everything was all right.

That much had been told to Draco upon his arrival, and he had rushed into her room without paying any attention to the three rather unlikely people standing behind her door.

He had found Narcissa wide awake and waiting.

"Mother, are you all right?" he asked, sitting down by the bed, and taking hold of her hand.

She gave him a long look.

"Do you know where Hermione is?"

It would be untrue to say that he wasn't taken aback by those words, and that they didn't touch the topic that was most painful for him, but seeing her anxious look, he shook his head in reply.

"She said she would be back. She promised me. I want to see her. Draco, go and find her," she ordered.

"But I don't know where she is. Honestly," he answered sincerely.

"Oh, I knew it was a bad idea to let her go like that. I waited for her for days, but she never came back. Oh Draco, you should have seen what she looked like when she Disapparated. So fragile, so miserable, on the verge of a breakdown. She said she needed to go away to think, but I know she needed to get away because she didn't want to break down in front of me. Because she thought I couldn't live with seeing how much pain she was in."

Draco turned his head away, and swallowed his own pain. The truth was he had seen her like that – fragile, miserable, and on the verge of a breakdown – but he had still left. Because he couldn't let her see just how deeply she had hurt him. Because he didn't think she could bear it. And because he wasn't ready to forgive her.

"Oh, Draco," Narcissa's voice brought him back to the present. "I've been heartless. She is not the only one hurt. How are you doing, darling? Are you all right? Do you hate me very much?"

"I'm fine," he gave the custom answer, although it was untrue and they both knew it. But then her last question reached his mind.

"Hate you? Why should I hate you, Mother?"

"Are you blaming it all on her, dear? Because you shouldn't. I'm the one who initiated it, after all."

Draco looked sharply back to her, realizing how true her words had been. He had blamed it all solely on Hermione, but now that he thought about what she had told him about that fateful night, he saw his mistake.

_But she is your mother_, he tried to argue with himself, but it didn't help. Because Hermione was his fiancée, or at least had been, and he loved her more than anything else in the world. But he had been hurt and angry, and had blamed it all on her. And he had left her when she needed him most. Hell, he had left them both when they needed him most. He had thought they had each other at least, but now it came out that they hadn't. They had been all alone, all three of them, and while he was back with his mother now, and they were both alright...

"I don't blame you, Mother. And I don't hate you."

"Then you shouldn't blame or hate her either."

"I... I just need some time, Mother. To think it all through."

"You've had 13 days for that, Draco," she said.

"I just... need some more."

"It was just once," Narcissa said after a pause. "I only paid her once."

"I don't want to talk about it, Mother."

"Fine, don't talk. Just listen. I only paid her once, for your first date. Nothing more, never again. Everything that happened after that was her own will. And she even tried to give it back to me, the day after your dinner, but I didn't let her."

"She told me that."

"She told you the truth, Draco. She loves you. For real, and with all her heart."

"I know, Mother," he said, dropping his glance. "I know that."

"Good," Narcissa said conclusively, and they lapsed into a silence for a while. Until a knock sounded on the door.

"Yes?" he called, and the door opened, revealing the three rather unexpected someones that he had missed before.

"Erm," Harry began, looking to Ron on his right, and Ginny on his left, who were busy with being uncomfortable and very reluctant to speak.

"Potter, what are **you** doing here?"

"Just came to see whether Mrs. Malfoy was alright," he explained, looking over at Narcissa.

"I'm fine, dearies," she said with a smile. "It is very kind of you to come and see me. But how did you know I was here?"

"Erm," Harry said again. "We... we were the ones who found you and brought you here."

He blushed, and looked away at that.

"What?" Draco exclaimed, clearly not expecting such turn of events. "Why? How?"

Narcissa was rather shocked as well.

"How did you get into the house, dears?" she questioned. "I locked it off against everyone but Draco and Hermione."

"We came through the window," Ron said, feeling a bit braver. "The window of Hermione's room opens for a password. We used that."

"You know the password to her window?" Draco asked, his tone incredulous, and dark. "How long have you known it?"

"Since yesterday."

"You know where Hermione is?" Narcissa asked sharply, while Draco felt almost nauseous at the fact that she had run to the Weasel.

"No, we don't," Ginny stepped into the conversation, noticing the dark look Draco was giving her brother. "We got a letter from her yesterday."

"What did she say?" Narcissa and Draco asked in unison.

Harry took out the parchment, but gave it to Ginny, who unfolded it, and started to read,

"Dear Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hannah, and whoever else might read this letter, I hope you are all doing fine. You might worry about me, but there is really no need, since I'm fine as well. Just needed a bit of time away to think. I know you want an explanation about the wedding and everything, but I just need a bit of time before I can give you that. Don't try to look for me, I really have to be alone right now.

"But there is one thing you could do for me. Please go check on Narcissa for me. I left her all alone, and I worry greatly about her. Just make sure she is fine. Perhaps you could keep her company for a while if Draco is not there. And please, please don't ask her anything about what happened – I'll tell you everything myself when I return.

"If she has done as I asked her to, and closed the house against everyone of Malfoy blood and myself, there is one more way you can get into the house. When you stand in front of the house, my window is the third from the left, on the fourth floor. Take your brooms with you, and fly there – it opens upon the correct password. And don't you even dare start coming up with your strange theories about why I have my window warded like that. All you need to know is that the password is _dragonspell_.

"Please do this one thing for me. I will answer to all of your questions upon my return. Tell Narcissa I'm fine. Stay well, Hermione."

"Can I see that?" Draco asked at last, breaking the long silence.

"Sure," Ginny handed him the parchment. "But she hasn't written down the name of the place."

She hadn't. Nor the date, which meant they couldn't calculate her distance by the time it took for the owl to get here.

"Erm," Ron spoke, "What happened then?"

Both Harry and Ginny gave him an evil look, but it wasn't too evil because they too wanted to know what had happened.

"None of your business, Weasley," Draco answered, still staring at the parchment.

"Did you cheat on her?"

"Ron!" Ginny gasped in horror, while Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

But Ron couldn't leave it like that. True, his hateful feelings towards Malfoy had lessened with time, first by Hermione's persuasion, and then by Hannah's. But they still had their moments of mutual dislike, and in addition to that, at present he was also worried about his run-away friend. Neither did curiosity improve his tact and manners.

"I said, that's none of your business, Weasley."

"So you did cheat on her!" Ron cried triumphantly, ignoring his best friend and sister, who had each grabbed one of his arms, and tried to drag him to the door.

Narcissa kept quiet, watching the exchange with interest. She was aware of the bad blood between her son and Hermione's less forgiving friends, and she knew that Ronald Weasley was one who sometimes still chose to walk on the borderline between hate and tolerance when it came to Draco. But usually it was either half-teasing, or for a good reason, and right now she knew he had one.

"No, I did not cheat on her, Weasley," Draco almost sighed, as if he had wished the situation was that easy.

Ron's face fell, but he stood his place and didn't let his friends drag him away, and only after a moment he brightened up again.

"Hermione realized she didn't love you!" he announced joyfully, then paused and frowned, "and she has left because... because... because she fears your revenge!"

Harry and Ginny let go of him now, and tried both looking apologetic for his behavior, and acting as if they didn't actually know him.

"Aha!" Ron exclaimed again. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Draco turned towards him to give him a glance that murderous that even Ron bleached, but instead of jumping at him or cursing him, he dropped his gaze and sighed.

"Mother paid her to go out with me."

"Come again?" Ron questioned, certain he hadn't said what he thought he had heard.

"Mother paid Hermione to go out with me," Draco repeated louder. "And she accidentally let it slip before the wedding. That's what happened."

Ron's expression went blank as his jaw fell open, but Ginny managed to react, gently poking Harry's shoulder.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" she questioned.

"I don't know. I depends on what you think he said."

"What do **you** think he said?"

"I'm not sure. But what I heard was something about Hermione being paid to go out with him."

"Oh good. So did I," Ginny sighed in relief, then thought for a moment, and realized she would have preferred being wrong.

Their friend and brother before them was opening and closing his mouth, no voice coming out of it for a while, and they really couldn't blame him. In the end, however, his brain was able to turn these shocking news into pleasantly shocking news, and once again there was a smile on his face.

"I knew it!" he declared. "I knew she couldn't go out with you out of her own will. I knew she would have never done it. I knew there was something more to it. I knew it!"

His happiness, though, was rather short-lived, only this time not ended by anyone's words but by his own thoughts.

"Hermione was paid to go out with you," he repeated darkly. "But that would mean that she did it for money. That she... sold... herself... for money..."

It was very clear that Ron disliked such idea even more than he disliked Malfoy, and despite all the hard work of his brain, he couldn't find a viewpoint from which it could be overlooked. On the contrary, his face turned gloomier and gloomier, and when he finally managed to voice the awful question, his tone was weak and desperate.

"Is that why she wanted to marry you? For money?"

Instead of answering Draco slowly turned to face her mother, looking straight into her eyes. Narcissa remained calm, and bore his glare, giving a sincere answer to the question he was silently asking her once again. He knew she couldn't lie to him, not like this, and she knew he knew it.

Poor Ron had to suffer a moment longer in his terrible suspicion, before Draco finally ended it with his answer.

"Of course not, Weasley. Someone should punch you for even thinking that. She is your friend for crying out aloud. How in Merlin can you consider her capable of something so low?"

In any other situation Ron would have either taken offence or started to justify himself, now he was just too relieved to say a thing.

"So she was paid only for the first date?" Ginny asked, seeking a clear understanding of things.

"Yes."

"And she didn't get paid for anything else?" she inquired further.

"No."

"Oh," she said, paused for a second, but decided to speak her opinion anyway. "That's not so bad at all."

Draco glared at her.

"How would you like to find out that your family had paid Potter to go out with you?"

She knew the question was simply a retort, but she considered it for a moment, and formed her answer.

"I'd be angry with them for a while, of course. But then I would realize they only did it for my happiness, and how can I hate anyone for that? Although this could never happen in our case since my family can't afford to buy me a husband, least of all the great Harry Potter, who has enough money of his own. So in my case, I should be happy I was able to snatch him with my own charms entirely."

She stopped, winked at her husband, and added,

"Though, I wouldn't have minded someone paying **me** something to go out with him."

Harry's expression of surprise turned into a mischievous grin at the look she was giving him, and it would have turned into a lot more had they not have been in public.

"That's not the point!" Draco rudely spoilt their moment. "I'm not angry at my Mother for doing that. I'm not even angry at Hermione for taking her offer since otherwise we may have never got together in the first place. Although," he fixed Narcissa with a sly glance, "I think she would have found another way to get us together, like her subsequent behaviour has proved."

"Then why did you drive her away?" Harry questioned, feeling it was his turn to say something.

"Because she should have told me about it!" Draco shouted, looking very much like he wanted to slam his fist down on the table, but for the lack of table, didn't.

"Oh, I can imagine it so well," Ginny replied calmly, her tone mocking. "'Draco darling, there's something I must tell you.' 'What is it, Hermione?' 'You know the first time we went out – I did it only because your Mother paid me.' 'That's okay, sweetie, I realize she only did it to make me happy, and I know you love me now. Thanks for telling me. I forgive you.'"

Narcissa snorted at this performance, but quickly disguised it as a cough. Draco glared at her for a moment, then turned back to the redhead girl.

"What was that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"Elementary," Ginny smirked. "Do you really think you would have forgiven her that easily?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer in affirmative, but paused, thinking about it. The longer he considered it, the clearer it became, and if he still had some doubts, Ginny's next words had disastrous impact on them.

"Of course not," she answered her own question. "You would have blown up, just like you did now. And it's even more complicated. If she had told you this in the beginning of your relationship, you would have left her for good. If she had told it to you later, it would have simply hurt you more, and you would have been angry at her for not telling it to you before. And you still might have left her for good. Try to think it from her point of view for once. She had a secret she feared might destroy all the good and beautiful you had. If it had been your secret instead of hers, would you have revealed it, knowing that it might cost you the love of your life, and not only that – it would also hurt the person you hold most dear to your heart."

He didn't answer, and she felt encouraged to go on.

"Don't take it the wrong way because I'm not accusing you of anything, but I'm sure you **do** have such deep secrets of your own. I know that past is past, but yours was dark, and I'm sure there are a few things you would rather forget yourself. There are things you regret, and things that haunt you, and things you wish to undo. I know you have. We all do. But there's nothing you can do about them, there is no way you can change your past."

"Is there a point in your story somewhere?" he demanded, a flame burning deep in his eyes, as he was suppressing the darkest of his memories.

"I'm getting there," Ginny assured. "And let us take one of such deep dark secrets that haunt your nightmares. Would you tell Hermione about it?"

"She knows my past."

"In general, yes. But she doesn't know the details, does she?"

He was forced to concur with the statement.

"Would you tell her about it? Would you tell her all the little sordid details of it? Knowing that it would hurt her, knowing that perhaps she couldn't look at you the same way after that ever again? Would you tell her?"

"That's not the same thing!" Draco vehemently protested. "For one thing, whatever secrets I may have, they have nothing to do with our relationship. And for another, should I have them, they would be hundred times worse than hers."

"So you can't forgive her for this, but want her to unknowingly forgive you something a lot more terrible?" she countered.

"She knows what I was! And she knows what I am now!"

"And you know that she loves you! And you know how much it hurts her! And you are still too proud to take away her pain, to protect her like you promised!" Ginny screamed back, finally losing her temper.

Harry and Ron were staring at her with their mouths open, but they knew not to interfere whenever she became like this. Even Narcissa was a bit surprised at the sudden fierceness of the girl, even though she couldn't disapprove of it. Not when she was telling the truth. And when there was a chance she might be able to make Draco see it as well.

But they never found out what Ginny, or anyone else, was going to say next because at that moment the door opened again, and a Healer ordered everybody out, reprimanding them seriously for such a behaviour in front of a patient who needed to rest. Everybody save Draco, that is, who refused to go, but promised to be a good boy.

For a moment both mother and son sat in silence, and Narcissa knew better than repeat any of what had been yelled before. But she also realized from his expression that those words had not been said in vain.

In search of a new topic, she turned back to her previous worries.

"I'm really worried about her," she stated.

"The Weasley girl? She has always been a shrew like this."

"No, not about the Weasley girl, although she is a Potter now," Narcissa corrected. "I meant Hermione."

Draco didn't say a thing.

"The letter is a good thing, it shows that at least she is capable of writing, and sending it. And even though it was hopeful..."

"What are you hinting at now, Mother?"

"Simply that we don't know where she is, or when she sent the letter. Or what has become of her since then."

"You are not suggesting that..." he began darkly.

"No," Narcissa cut him through. "All I'm suggesting is finding her as soon as possible."

"You do know that she could be anywhere in the world? And that she could be hiding her tracks well?"

"I'm counting on it," she agreed. "I'm just saying that we should find her."

"Perhaps you're right, although I'm sure you are overreacting. But it's going to take a while."

"Draco," Narcissa said, being dead serious. "I'm fine, and I probably would have been fine without Harry and his friends finding me. But her condition was worse than mine when she left, and if she is hiding from everyone, there is no one to help her."

He looked up sharply, his expression one of horror. A thousand different images were running through his head, each worse than the previous. He knew Hermione was a powerful witch and a strong woman, but he had also seen her fragile and on the verge of a breakdown. And he was quite aware when he had seen her like that the last time.

The **last** time. Oh Merlin! What had he done? Possibly, and quite probably everything was all right, since his beloved wasn't one to do silly things, but what if it had been something she couldn't have helped? What if... what if...

All the 'what ifs' were way too horrible to even think about, and he knew he would never forget himself should one of his nightmares prove true. He was still angry at her, yes, and not quite ready to forgive, but never in his life (or at least since the beginning of their relationship) had he wished any harm upon her. No, on the contrary...

_And you are still too proud to take away her pain, to protect her like you promised!_

The little ex-Weasley had been right. He had promised to protect her. And should he fail... Draco wasn't sure what he would do then, but he did know it was the worst thing that could happen. And he knew that he was ready to do anything, anything to stop it from becoming true.

"I'll send people out at once," he announced, standing up.

"Draco, no. We have to find her now," Narcissa insisted, further frightened by her son's horror.

"I know. I'll do everything I can."

"Draco," she stopped her again. "There's something else you can do."

He halted in his steps as if struck by lightening, and turned back to her mother, his face pale.

"They'll throw us in Azkaban if they find out," he said calmly.

"I know."

"It's a complicated spell. I can't manage it on my own."

"I know," Narcissa replied.

"I'll take the whole blame should it ever come out."

"It won't. Now get me out of here."

"I'll talk to your Healer," he promised, and left the room. He was so full of determination he hardly noticed anyone on his way, failing to pay attention even to the young woman bumping into him in the hallway.

-----

**Note #2: **I hope you liked it. And I hope you liked the name of Hermione's bookshop - it took me quite a while to come up with it, but I'm rather proud of it. :) **REVIEW!**


	3. 3 of 3

**Note:** So, this is it - the last part of the story. I had a great time writing it, and I hope you'll have a great time reading it. As to the ending of last chapter, many people were confused by the spell. If you weren't or don't want an explanation, feel free to skip the rest of the note. Anyway, the spell was a dark one, illegal and complicated, thus Draco needing Narcissa's help to cast it. The spell itself doesn't really matter, just the fact that they were ready to use it to find Hermione, even if it meant an Azkaban sentence for them.

-----

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter going thrice. Sold!

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**That Fateful Night, Part 3 of 3**

The first thing Hermione felt upon waking up was warmth. But it was a different kind of warmth than the sun or a blanket. It was, in fact, someone's arms around her. She mentally frowned, thinking herself dreaming, before the previous events came back to her, and she snuggled closer.

"Mummy," she whispered, a sleepy smile on her face.

"She's fine," a familiar voice told her, and Hermione had almost fallen back asleep when she realized it was definitely not Narcissa's.

But it was definitely familiar, and recognition brought tears into her eyes once again. Oh, how she didn't want to cry anymore. But she did, and it robbed her of the option of feigning sleep.

"Shush, don't cry. Mother is having my head when she sees it."

"Where is she?" Hermione asked, relishing these few more moments before being pushed away.

"She's with her Healer to see whether she is fit to go home today," he replied, but didn't push her away like she had expected.

"Is it safe to release her so soon?" Hermione exclaimed, raising her head and even opening her eyes in worry. For all her concern for Narcissa, she still couldn't help noticing the fact that she was sitting on his lap on the bed, his arms around her waist and hers resting on his shoulders. She decided to keep the position, since it was warm and pleasant and something she had dreamed about for the last two weeks.

"If it's not, they won't let her."

"But the Prophetsaid her condition was critical..."

"The Prophet has said a lot of things lately, and only a few have been true," he snorted.

"I wouldn't know," she whispered sadly. "That was the first issue I read since..."

She couldn't bring herself to finish, and she didn't have to. The lime green curtains at the window were drawn shut but they fluttered in a silent breeze as she kept staring at them, unable to look him in the eye.

"I missed you," Hermione suddenly stated, still staring at the curtains, her tears flowing freely.

He didn't return the statement, but at least he said something, and she didn't have to bear the repressing silence around them.

"Where were you?"

"Crete."

"Our house in Crete?" he asked in surprise similar to Narcissa's.

"Your house in Crete," she confirmed.

"Not a very good hiding place, is it?"

"On the contrary. You never found me."

Draco had to agree to that, and couldn't help thinking of the irony of the situation, had they used the dark spell to locate her, and found her from their very own house. Luckily for them, though, she had returned on her own before they had the chance to perform it.

"You?" she inquired, to stop the silence from falling upon them once again.

"Switzerland."

She nodded, then frowned as an idea suddenly hit her.

"Not the cabin in the Alps?"

"The very same."

"But you hate it there!" Hermione exclaimed, in her surprise forgetting the reason of her intent stare at the curtains and turning her face towards him.

If she hadn't been crying already, the look in his eyes would have definitely made her, as well as the fact that he hid his feelings so quickly that she started to doubt what she had witnessed. She could also feel him tense, and knowing what was to come next, she prevented his actions by leaping off him, and practically running to the window, where she pulled away one of the lime green curtains giving herself something better to pretend to be looking at.

_Stupid_, she scolded herself, thinking that if only she hadn't turned her head, she would still be sitting on his lap with his arms around her, instead of standing by the window and shivering not because of the cool breeze but for her loss.

"You'll catch a cold there," he spoke, obviously noticing her shiver.

"Why were you in the Alps?" she questioned, not stepping away from the window. "You hate it there."

She thought she could guess his answer, she thought he had picked the place exactly because everyone knew he didn't like it there, she thought he would tell her it was a good hiding place.

She thought wrong.

"But you love it there," he said instead, almost too quietly for her to catch. But she heard it, and felt herself breaking once again.

"Just like you love Crete," she forced herself to answer, as her voice refused to co-operate, her knees trembled, and the edges of her vision darkened.

"Hermione!" someone cried. "What are you doing at the window! You'll catch a cold. Look at you, you are trembling! And your face is white as snow! Draco, I told you to look after her!"

Hermione didn't know whether it was Narcissa or her son who helped her to the bed, and forced her to sit down on it. But when she recovered from her fatigue, it was Narcissa fussing around her, and Draco standing a few steps away, his gaze on the two of them.

It took her a while to convince Narcissa that she was all right, and that she didn't need to see a Healer, and that everything was fine, and that it would be best for Narcissa to calm down, since everything **was** fine.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" she exclaimed. "You would have hit the floor had I not returned in time."

"I doubt it."

"I don't. You were trembling, dear, and cold and pale and..."

"You misunderstood me," Hermione stopped her, staring at the floor, "I might have fainted, I admit, but that's because I've had a long day. Or more like many long days. But I wouldn't have hit the floor."

Narcissa started to protest, but before she managed to utter a word, the truth hit her, and she fell silent. No one said a word for a while, and Hermione wondered what had made her say this in the first place, and whether it was a bad thing that she had. At least Narcissa seemed to have calmed down, and that was good, but she didn't know her expression, or her son's, and she was more than a little reluctant to raise her eyes and look. Last time such action had been catastrophic.

"Well," Narcissa spoke at last. "If you are certain that you are all right, we should go home. I was released, and it's a better place for you to rest. And that's what you're going to do, even if I have to lock you in your room."

Hermione forced a small smile at that and nodded, then stood up and gave Narcissa a brief hug.

"Let's go then," she said, refusing to look at Draco. She was still fighting her wish to only take a small peek at him when they were walking first down the hallway and then descending the stairs, Narcissa having placed herself between the two of them, probably to slip away at the most convenient of moments. But before that moment arrived, something else happened, something that also managed to save Hermione from her inner struggle.

Suddenly there was a flash of light before them, and when Hermione regained her vision, she keenly wished she hadn't because there in front of them was standing one of the last people she wanted to see.

"Miss Granger, so nice to have you back. It is still Miss Granger, isn't it? I'm truly sorry about what happened at your wedding, but now that we're already talking about it, perhaps you could lighten us about it? The Wizarding world is dying to know the truth, and since we haven't been able to find you for two weeks, all we had to satisfy our curiosity were a few theories, some of them better, others not so good. But now that you are finally here, perhaps you can point out the correct one? Let me guess, you are secretly married to Ronald Weasley? Yes, that's what we thought, poor Miss Abbott, you really crushed her hopes. Or perhaps you lied yourself pregnant to make the marriage happen in the first place, and now the truth came out? Or perhaps you really are pregnant, only from the wrong man? Or perhaps..."

"Or perhaps this is none of your business," Hermione growled, "And if you don't leave us alone, I **will** hex you, Skeeter."

"Ooh, so violent, are we?" Rita grinned maliciously. "That can only mean one thing – I must be close to the truth. So whose baby is it really, tell me, Miss Granger? Colin Creevey's, isn't it? Isn't it?"

Hermione, already having drawn her wand, suddenly stopped, and turned her face towards the woman, full in shock.

"Aha!" Rita Skeeter exclaimed. "Thought we wouldn't figure it out, didn't you? Well, we are smarter than you might think, and no secret will escape our expert eyes and ears."

Hermione stared at her for a moment longer, then suddenly burst out laughing. Rita looked most insulted.

"Colin Creevey," she gasped at last, breathless from the laughter. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time. And yet I have to thank you for that, Miss Skeeter. I was a bit reluctant to face the media after my two-week absence, and I was afraid I might say too much under the pressure, but now as I see you are all just as silly and ridiculous as you have always been, I feel rather invigorated by the knowledge that no sane person will ever believe a word of your articles. Have a good day, Miss Skeeter."

They had left the speechless woman behind them, but as Rita Skeeter was still Rita Skeeter, she didn't let herself be silenced for long, and after a moment she had caught up with them again, shooting now all three with questions and the most probable answers to them. Hermione thought she might die of laughter at the idea of Draco having a secret relationship with Ron, and she was still giggling over that as they stepped out of the fireplace at the Malfoy Manor.

"It's not that funny," he growled, watching her lean on a table to keep her balance.

"Yes, it is," she argued, and burst into a new fit of laughter.

"Sorry," she said, once she had managed to calm down. "It's just that I haven't laughed for a while now, and it feels great."

Narcissa looked horrified at that, but she chose not to comment or cause another fuss about it, thinking she had a better solution for all of them.

"I think you should have your rest now, darling," she spoke kindly. "Let me take you to your room."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, surprised at the vehemence of her own voice. "I mean, not yet. I have some business to take care of."

And without another word of explanation she walked back to the hearth, took a handful of Floo powder, and would have left just like that, had Narcissa not stopped her.

"Where are you going?" she cried, a small dose of hysteria back in her voice.

"I have to see Harry and Ron. I promised to tell them everything," she said.

"You don't have to," Narcissa replied, a bit calmer now. "They already know."

"What?" Hermione wheeled around to face her. "They know? But how?"

"You are forgetting, Hermione," Draco spoke up serenely, "that you were not the only one who knew the truth."

"Oh."

Then, after a long pause, she tried again, her voice timid and fearful,

"What did they say?"

"They were all on your side, dear," Narcissa reassured her with a kind smile. "Ginny even screamed in your defense, so loud that they were thrown out of the room."

"Oh," she repeated, although now obviously relieved. "Well, I'll just go and let them see that I'm alive and all right."

"You should," Narcissa agreed, trying a different tactics. "But not right now. We will owl them with the good news, and you will visit them right after your little nap. When you are looking fresh and invigorated. They might faint of shock seeing you like this."

Hermione looked down upon her appearance and smirked,

"That bad, huh?"

"Dreadful," Draco commented dryly, and she smiled at his teasing.

And even though half of her mind forced her to action right away, Hermione let herself be persuaded this time, and allowed Narcissa to lead her to her room.

---

It was always wise to listen to your mother, Hermione realized upon waking. She had fallen asleep exhausted and miserable, but waken up with new strength, new determination, and most important of all, with a new idea. She knew what she had to do, and she was going to do it.

First, of course, she was going to take a nice long shower, and then make herself presentable. So that her friends wouldn't faint of shock at her dreadful appearance.

Once that part of the mission was complete, and she didn't feel like screaming when looking into the mirror, Hermione left for the parlor's fireplace. She could have opened the Floo connection in her own room, but wanted to tell Narcissa about her leaving first, so that she would not go hysterical at discovering her gone.

She didn't find Narcissa, but Draco was sitting in front of the fireplace, looking like he had been ordered there to watch it should she attempt to leave unnoticed. Which, despite sounding very much like a thing his mother would do, probably wasn't the case, for if she wanted to go, she could have easily Apparated from the hallway.

"I'm going now," she informed him calmly, walking towards the hearth without sparing him a glance. But once she had retrieved the powder and was ready to go, she did turn around to face him.

Perhaps it was the casual aura around him or her own rest, but for the first time since the revelation of her secret, she didn't start crying when looking at him. She did feel a jolt of pain pierce her heart, but now she could control her emotions and stop her tears. Perhaps it was because of her plan, and the hope it gave her.

"How do I look?" she inquired, tilting her head to the right, and smirking slyly. "Still dreadful? Inspiring people to faint of shock at seeing me?"

She could read his answer from his look, but she was curious to hear it, as well.

"Beautiful," he said simply, but with meaning. "Are you coming back?"

"In a couple of hours," Hermione replied, gave him a small wave, and stepped into the flames.

It took her two seconds to realize that he hadn't asked her _when _she was coming back.

---

"Hermione!"

"Harry!"

"Hermione!"

"Ginny!"

"Hermione!"

"Ron!"

"You can let go of me now," Hermione told them after a while. "I'm sure I don't really **need** to breathe, but you're crushing me as well."

In another moment her friends complied, and she was able to breathe again, and look around at the three relieved faces around her.

"Where's Hannah?"

"Doing something or other with Susan," Ron told her. "But, Hermione! You are here! You are well! You are unhurt! How are you doing?"

"I'm here, well, and unhurt, as you already observed," she smiled. "I'm fine, really. No need to worry about me. How are you doing?"

"Worrying about you most of the time," Ginny replied.

"No need for that any longer," she declared, perching herself on the edge of table, and looking from one friendly face to another. Friendly faces that were still full of concern and doubting her words.

"Hermione," Harry spoke at last. "Malfoy told us what happened."

"Really?" Hermione looked up, surprised. "I thought it was Narcissa."

"Erm, no," he said and paused, looking lost at what to say next.

"Anyway," Ginny continued, "we know it all. Or at least we know the main point. Not the details. You can tell us that if you want. But you don't have to if you would rather not. Your call, really. But we support you. We won't judge you, or anything, if that's what you're afraid of."

"Thanks," Hermione smiled, and hugged the other girl. "And I will tell you everything you want to know."

She did, and upon finding out why she had been in such a terrible need of money that fateful night, all three broke out with indignant cries of why she hadn't asked their help, but Hermione managed to calm them down eventually. Fortunately for her, they were so happy and relieved at her being fine and back, that they were ready to forgive her almost anything.

After talking about her three friends' doings during the last two weeks, and a humorous account of the chaos Hermione had left behind, Ginny finally dared to come to the more serious topic.

"So, what now, Hermione?" she started with a question vague enough, but its true meaning was clear to everybody.

"Now I'm going to be bombarded with tons of questions from everybody, chased by Skeeter and every other reporter in the country, and if I'm lucky enough, someone else will do something rather scandalous in the future, and they will forget all about me. Speaking of that, Ron, when are you finally going to propose to Hannah?"

Ron's ears turned crimson and he muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, but the other two, especially Ginny, were not going to let her go that easily.

"Yes, I don't envy you for that. But what I meant was..."

"I know what you meant," Hermione interrupted, turning solemn. "I don't know. There's not much I can do. Well, there is this one idea that I'm going to execute, but that's more like making amends than... I don't know. We'll see."

Ginny opened her mouth to say something else, but her friend's look was so final that she decided to drop that subject for now.

Instead they chatted some more about trivial and light-hearted things, teased Ron a bit about his girlfriend, and then Hermione announced it was her time to leave, promising to visit them all very soon again, and do something fun together. Like hunt down Rita Skeeter, Ron had suggested, in serious dislike of one of her brilliant theories. Hermione was sure she knew which one, and they laughed, or in Ron's case, cursed and blushed, over it for a while longer.

---

"When did she say she would return?" Narcissa demanded for the seventh time. In last two minutes.

"In a couple of hours," Draco answered with a sigh, watching his mother walking up and down the living-room carpet, ranting about his stupidity at letting her leave just like that.

"She went to see Potter and Weasley. You can call on them if you think she is not there."

"Of course not!" Narcissa exclaimed angrily. "I'm not going to do that. But I would never be in such a situation if you hadn't let her go in the first place."

"What was I to do? _Stupefy_ her?" he retorted, growing tired of arguing with his mother, who was not listening to anything he said.

"You should have asked her!"

"And you think it would have helped?"

"Of course it would have," Narcissa stated. "Of course she would have stayed had you asked her to."

Draco decided to step out of this quarrel right now, partly because he was tired of it, and partly because she was right. And partly because he was afraid she might have been right about everything else as well, and he had made a mistake letting her leave like that. They had already managed to lose her once, and he didn't want it to repeat.

"Draco! Say something!"

"I'm sure she will be back any..." he started, when the flames turned green, and a second later Hermione stepped out of them.

"Honey!" Narcissa exclaimed happily, while her son finished his sentence,

"... moment now."

Hermione smiled, but stepped away when Narcissa tried to hug her.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing," she replied, still smiling. "I brought you something."

"What is it?" Narcissa inquired, reaching for the bag Hermione was holding out for her.

"That's three thousand Galleons," she answered simply.

With a gasp Narcissa sharply drew her hand back, as if burnt.

"Take it," Hermione insisted. "I told you I was going to pay it back. And now I am."

"And I told you that you didn't need to," the other woman declared. "You are one of the family, and money has no business here."

"It has nothing to do with family," Hermione stated with resolution. "It has nothing to do with business, or even money. It's all about me promising to pay it back, and now living up to my word. Because I do keep my promises."

"And I told you," Narcissa answered with equal determination, "that you don't have to. Those were my words, and I'm not going to take them back."

The two women glared at each other, both unyielding in their decisions, and waiting for the other to give up. But neither was willing to compromise, and without interference they might have continued staring at each other till the end of time, or at least for the rest of their lives.

"Take the money, Mother."

Reluctantly, Narcissa obeyed. Although in truth her unwillingness to yield was more of an act than her real feeling. Because there had been only one reason, other than her characteristic defiance, to object to it in the first place, and that was to gauge Draco's reaction. Now that she had got her wish, she took the offered money.

"It's ridiculous, though," she couldn't help but comment, "to take money from one account just to put it back to the same."

"You're right," Hermione agreed, still tense from the exchange, "it would be ridiculous. That's why I drew it from my own account."

Narcissa frowned at that.

"But you don't have that anymore. You closed it yourself last month, after transmitting all your money to our family account."

Hermione sent her another glare. She was quite aware that she no more had a bank account other than the one she shared with Narcissa and her son, but she had hoped to get away without **that** explanation. Now, however, it seemed she wouldn't be that lucky, and judging by the expression on the other woman's face, she had no other choice but to tell the truth.

"Fine," she gritted her teeth. "I sold my _Hogwarts, A History_. Happy?"

"But you loved that book!" Narcissa exclaimed. "You told me it was your most precious possession because you always kept it, that it reminded you of the happiest times of your life, and helped you survive the worst. You said it was priceless to you, and you would never part from it."

"Are you trying to say that someone paid you three thousand Galleons for some old book?" Draco asked incredulously.

At some other times he would have got a nice juicy piece of her mind, plus an indignant slap, for calling her most precious possession 'some old book'. Now Hermione only felt relief for an excuse to ignore Narcissa's exclamation.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" she gave a sly smile. "But if you find the right buyer, anything is possible. When we were away on our Horcrux hunt, Harry used the book for writing down a few notes, doodles, and some strategies. I was a bit angry with him at the time, but thanks to this Harry Potter's Official Fanclub was ready to pay me almost anything for it. Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

"But you loved that book!" Narcissa was not to be ignored.

"Potter has an official fanclub?" Draco sounded shocked and repulsed.

"I know," Hermione nodded knowingly. "You should have seen Harry's face when he heard about it. He looked like a Christmas decoration – turning from white to green to red to white again."

Draco couldn't help but smirk at that, but his mother couldn't have cared less about the hue of Harry's skin at receiving those news.

"But you loved that book!" she shouted again.

"It was just a book," Hermione replied, looking around the room nervously, avoiding both gazes directed at her.

"But all your memories, and reminders of good times, and..."

"And I still have those memories safe in my head. As to good times, I hope there are still those to come."

"But your parents gave it to you!" Narcissa turned to her last resort of an argument, although as soon as she had said it, she wished to take it back. There were some things they rather didn't talk about, and Hermione's parents happened to be one of them. This was a topic better left alone, since it caused pain to both parties. Because there was one thing connecting Narcissa and Draco to the murder of Hermione's parents. Namely, Lucius Malfoy.

Presently, Hermione gave Narcissa a long look, but she knew better than to raise another ghost of the past. She had never blamed either of them for the death of her parents, at least, not after their truce, but she suspected they had both known and approved of it at that time. Yet past was past, and they had both changed, and nothing good would come of pondering too long over something that had happened long ago, in another world at another time, as it sometimes seemed.

"I don't need some old book to remember my parents. They are always going to be with me, in my thoughts and heart. But as cliché as it may sound, I thought it was time to let go of the past for real, to put the war and its terrors behind me, and move on to a new era, full of peace and hope and happiness. And I truly hope I wasn't quoting Rita Skeeter with these words."

Hermione smiled, but Narcissa did the exact opposite, first with a small sob, and then breaking out in tears.

"Oh, honey, that was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," she said, and run to embrace the girl.

"You're turning into Hannah," Hermione commented, but nonetheless returned the hug.

"Only those with no heart can remain untouched by such words," Narcissa defended herself, sending a sharp glare at her son at the same time. She was still glaring at him when the two women finally drew apart, and her silent message was so obvious that Draco wasn't the only one who caught it.

"Narcissa, don't..." Hermione started, fully aware of what was to come next.

"I'm going to leave now," the woman stated, "It's time you two talked this thing out. And if you know what's good for you, neither of you is leaving this room before you have done exactly that."

"And you better have good news for me the next time I see you!" she threatened, closing the door behind her.

"So," Hermione said after the silence had reigned for far too long. She didn't dare to look at him, staring instead at the door Narcissa had closed behind her, thinking about her parting words.

Good news. She wanted to bring back good news more than anything. But now that the moment was here, she had to think realistically, and prepare herself. And although bringing back good news was something she wanted more than anything else at the moment, she knew it was a vain hope. But a vain hope was better than no hope at all, and miracles do happen, don't they?

Hermione was in the middle of assuring herself that they really did, when she was suddenly pulled backwards, and before she could react or protest in any way, emerald flames twirled around her, and a moment later she tumbled onto white rug.

It was thick and soft and familiar. Sitting on the carpet, Hermione looked around, and it took her only a couple of seconds to identify the place. After all, she did love it.

"Mother will not be very happy with us leaving the room," she commented. "Or the country."

"Too bad because I'm not going to have her eavesdrop on us behind the door," Draco replied from the sofa behind her, closing off the fireplace against any Floo connection.

Hermione was about to protest, but then she remembered that they were talking about Narcissa, and there was no way she was going to miss the option of listening in on their conversation. Still, she felt the need to say something, if only for prolonging the coming of terrible news.

"Can't blame her – I would do exactly same in her place. And so would you, I'm sure."

She knew he was going to object to that even without seeing his expression, so she quickly continued.

"You can deny it now, but once we have a son or daughter in a similar situation, you will most certainly be the first to claim the door."

Hermione smiled at that idea, but then suddenly frowned. Had she just said 'we'? She knew that she was thinking 'we', but she had had every intention to speak out 'you' instead; yet the more she thought back to her sentence, the surer she became of saying not the intended word. Draco was silent, and as she sat with her back to him, she couldn't find the answer from him. And she couldn't correct herself either in case she had actually said 'you' already. And to think about it, there was nothing wrong with her saying 'we' in the first place; after all, it was what she had been thinking about.

That problem solved, she wondered whether this was another try from her mind to postpone thinking about the serious topics, and decided that it most definitely had been, and for a while it had worked as well.

But now...

"Mother told us to bring back good news," Draco opened the conversation, the one that was supposed to change their lives for ever, and probably break some hearts in the process as well.

Realizing the disadvantage of her position, as she couldn't make a hasty exit if necessary, now that the Floo was down, Hermione finally stood up, but instead of taking a seat by his side, she moved to another window, and gazed at the scenery outside.

And oh what a beautiful scenery it was. Pure, white, untouched. Mountains and forests and land, all so white, and so pretty, and so sinless. White, cold, and frosty was the view that opened up to her, and this time it was no ice-cream. The majestic peaks of the Alps stood proud against the bluish grey sky, hiding the little cabin from all the curious looks of the world and from all the popular ski resorts, at the same time granting them a most special winter wonderland of their very own, reserved and made solely for their admiration and pleasure.

Hermione couldn't help thinking back to the happier times, but she quickly shook those thoughts off, for no matter how amusing was the memory of teaching Draco to ski, the present was too important for not paying attention to it.

But there was still something about the endless fields of snow that gave her peace; not determination, not hope, not strength, but peace. They also called out to her, but she resisted their invitation. Perhaps later she would be able to go for a walk between the magnificent peaks reaching into the sky, the immense woods stretching their arms protectively around them, and the eternal blanket of snow covering everything, giving them all the look and feel of innocence and infinity.

Perhaps she would laugh and play in the snow, or perhaps she would sit down under a fir tree, close her eyes, and become one with the nature. For ever.

That half-happy half-tragic thought made her smile, and somehow she found the strength to turn around and look at him.

Draco had stood up from the sofa himself, and was now standing in the middle of the room, looking at her. He had obviously been waiting for her to face him because now that she did, he went on with his talk.

"As I said, Mother expects us back any moment now with good news," he repeated. "I'm afraid that this time, however, she won't get what she wants. Because I have thought long and hard over this, and I've finally reached a conclusion. Hermione, I can't..."

"NO!"

The word had burst from her mouth without any conscious thought of saying it, but once it was out, it was followed by a feeling so intense that at first she was unable to decipher it herself. Her knees were trembling again, and her vision had lost some of its clarity, but she could hardly notice any of it, for there seemed to be an invisible hand clenching her heart, and an unearthly force rendering her immobile.

And after a moment, she recognized the feeling.

Fear.

Pure, undiluted, omnipotent. Hermione couldn't even remember the last time she had been so afraid, but it must have been sometimes during the war. She had been almost constantly scared at that time, but such gripping all-powerful fear she had only felt on a couple of occasions.

So intent it burned her like fire, so intent that the moment she found herself capable of motion, there was just one single thought in her mind.

She had to get away before it would demolish her entirely, combust her, destroy her, burn her to ashes.

"I can't," she spoke hurriedly, more for herself than anyone else, taking small inconspicuous steps towards the veranda door. "I can't. I can't hear it. I can't. I'm not strong enough. I thought I was, but I'm not. I can't take it. I can't. I'm sorry but I can't. I'm not strong enough. I'm not ready. I thought I was prepared, but I'm not. I know it's inevitable, but I can't hear it. I can't. I can't. I can't. I'm sorry. I can't. Because I can't. Because I thought I was strong, but I'm not. Because..."

Her searching hands found the door behind her and pushed it open.

"Because I'm still broken," she explained, stepping outside into the snow. The door fell shut and she was alone in the eternal whiteness, innocence, and peace. But the relief was momentarily, and she knew it. Despite her gripping fear, despite the blinding brightness and the biting cold, she heard his steps as he ran to the door, and without a second thought she rushed to the stairs.

It would have been so much easier to pull out her wand and Apparate, but that idea had failed to cross her mind. Instead she headed towards the white eternity, the white comfort, the white oblivion around her, intent on fulfilling at least one of her earlier thoughts. But as her luck had it, she made it no further than the first step of the staircase. The world made a sharp tilt as she slipped on the snow-covered ice, and then everything around her turned from white to black.

---

It was green. She stared at it, trying to figure out what it was. Not snow, apparently, but it could have been ice-cream. Apple or almond or peppermint flavour. Yet there were so many other green things in the world. Grass, and cucumbers, and frogs. She frowned and decided it was not a frog, then after a moment realized she was being ridiculous, and sat up on the bed.

It was a strange bed, as blue as the ceiling had been green. The room was large and spacious, the only other furniture besides the bed she was occupying a wardrobe to her left, and a small round table at the opposite wall. The windows were high and with stained glass, the sunlight shining through them creating colourful patches on the white carpet.

Hermione stayed in the room for a little longer, looking around in wonder and trying to figure out where exactly she was. It might have been another of the many houses Draco had all over the world, but if so, then this was one she had never been to before. And for some reason she found the idea doubtful; as beautiful as the room was, it didn't have the Malfoyish aura about it, the feeling of grandeur and extravagance. Not that they were tastelessly lavish, but she got the notion that there was something missing here. For example, a magnificent painting in gold frame. Or at least an adorned mirror. So much empty wall space would have been a great waste for them. Not that she minded it though; she often found the paintings the better part of all those houses. Except for the bedroom, of course, as Draco was very keen on proving to her.

But there were no pictures on these walls. Not that there was any need of it, though – the stained glass of the windows was the highlight of the room, and no more ornaments were necessary. Leaving the bed behind, she walked up to them to look more closely at the mosaic they displayed. She almost expected something religious, as such things were usually found in churches. But the first window depicted a tree in full blossom in the middle of a garden, the second a fountain surrounded by tiny yellow flowers. She stood there for a while, admiring their beauty, then stepped closer to take a peek outside, hoping to get some clue about her location. But the sunlight combined with all the colours were too bright for her eyes to take a glimpse of anything else.

So it seemed she had no other option but to leave this room, and if not find a hint to her surroundings, then perhaps someone who could tell her that much. Stopping at the door, she first took a deep breath. Not because she was afraid, no. At least not of the place, or any outward dangers. For there was only one plausible reason of her getting here, and he would have never taken her anywhere unsafe. But she couldn't deny being a bit apprehensive of the reasons of being here, or what still needed to be spoken to her.

Outside the room there was a short hallway that ended with a staircase going only down. Descending the steps, for what else could she do, Hermione ended up in another room, which size made the previous seem like a broom closet. It wasn't just that though. The room, or rather hall was round and roofed with a cupola, made of stained glass, just like the windows in the upstairs room, picturing another garden. Or perhaps the same because this too had a tree in blossoms and a fountain. But in contrast to the windows, this one moved. Not too much since Hermione only noticed it after a few moments, but the water in the fountain was in motion, and the leaves of the trees quivered as if in light breeze. Looking more closely, she noticed a bird hopping from one bough to another, and a few butterflies fluttering around.

After she had marvelled enough at the cupola above, Hermione lowered her head and eyes to take a good look of the hall. Here she managed to notice a huge fireplace and a settee in front of it, before something made her turn sharply and gasp. At the table by the French windows, a man was sitting and writing something.

He looked rather young and had light brown hair, and by his behaviour he hadn't noticed her yet. But now that she had she could look more closely, and it didn't take her long to realize she had never seen him before. He seemed in deep concentration and Hermione didn't want to disturb him. Yet the only way out of the room was the one by his side, and she hoped he could give her some of the answers she wanted.

"Excuse me," she spoke out, taking a few steps towards the stranger. He still didn't hear her, and only when she was standing right beside the table and repeating her words, did he look up from the parchment.

He looked kind and handsome, and there was something oddly familiar about his face, although she was more than certain now that she had never seen him before.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," she said, "but I was wondering perhaps you could tell me..."

The stranger didn't let her finish.

"The garden looks especially beautiful today," he spoke, pointing to the French windows in front of him.

"Yes, I'd love to see it," Hermione said politely once she had recovered from her momentarily surprise at such an answer. "But perhaps you could tell me first..."

"And I find it very relaxing to walk through it."

"I believe you, but..."

"Go on and explore," the man said, standing up from the table and opening the doors for her, "it's not very big, but it might hold a few pleasant surprises."

Hermione briefly considered staying put and arguing, but the warm breeze was carrying some delightful fragrances to her, and a walk in the garden suddenly sounded as a good idea.

Thanking him with a smile, she stepped through the door into the garden, taking the path that started from there and led her into greenness. There were trees and bushes around her, and flowers growing in the grass on both sides of the trail. There was the bird song, and warm wind, and an exotic palette of sweet and spicy scents. She stopped from time to time to look closer at some plant or smell some flower, or simply stand and look around, or close her eyes and take a deep breath.

The man in the house had been right – the garden was very beautiful today, and there was definitely something calm and relaxing about it. To put it short, she felt better than she had for the last two weeks, and she couldn't help but wonder whether her recovery would have taken just as long if she had done it here.

The longer she walked, the more certain she became, but only when she found the fountain did she know for sure that this had been the very garden the cupola of the hall had portrayed.

It was in the middle of a small opening, surrounded by a circle of trees, hiding the house and everything else from the view. There were a few tiny yellow flowers growing in the grass, but other than that it looked rather bare compared to the rest of the garden.

Still, there was something about it that made it perfect just the way it was, and as she sat down at the edge of the fountain, Hermione couldn't help but sense something sacred about this place.

She gazed at the trees around her, then at the merrily glittering water in the fountain. She reached for the latter, getting her fingertips wet, and drawing patterns onto its surface.

If Draco did own this house, she made a mental note to come here far more often. But now that she had seen the stranger, she was rather sure all this belonged to him. Perhaps she could visit him from time to time. He didn't seem very sociable, but she wouldn't have to bother him, just walk through the garden after another long day and feel all her troubles fade away.

"Troubles," she spoke quietly, her hand still playing with the water. "Oh, the poor dear troubled life I'm living once again."

Here, in this garden, thinking those morose thoughts didn't seem as devastating at all as elsewhere. She even managed a smile at this.

"Then again, what kind of life would it be without all its problems and worries..."

"To keep it interesting," someone else finished her thought and sentence. "Boring, that's what."

"I didn't hear you come," Hermione said, not turning her head away from the fountain and its glittering water.

"I was silent," he replied, walking up to the fountain and by that also into her line of vision. "And you were deep in thought."

She looked at him and nodded. Once again the moment had arrived, and once again she prepared herself for what was to come. But this time she felt she could actually take it without breaking apart and running away. It was because of this place, she decided. There was some magical healing effect to it, something that even the ever-white snow had failed to give her.

"What is this place?" she asked, not to prolong the inevitable, but because she really wished to know.

"A garden," he replied curtly.

"I can tell that much," she smiled, "but where is this garden?"

"In Tibet."

Hermione raised her brows and looked around in wonder. Seemed that there was more magic to this place than its healing effect.

"Not what I expected Tibet to look like," she commented, and was happy to see him smirk at that.

"Who's that man I saw inside?" she questioned again, since he didn't seem in a rush to break the awful news to her, and get this over and done with.

"That was Eleseus. He owns this place," Draco explained, leaning against the edge of the fountain, never taking his eyes off her.

"I figured as much," Hermione replied, not turning her gaze away either. "Who is he?"

"He calls himself an eremite," he shrugged.

"Eremite?" she frowned. "Shouldn't they be living in some cave in the middle of a desert in solitude and poverty?"

He laughed at that.

"I'd like to see you make it clear to **him**. He'll only say that he is already living in desolation, and it's his business what to do with his money."

"Now that's a spirit you don't see often in an eremite," Hermione smiled again. In his place, she would have preferred the house and garden to some desert cave at any moment.

"Oh, I can't say," he replied half-jokingly. "He's the only eremite I know."

"How **do** you know him?" Hermione wondered, almost managing to forget the fact that they had a serious conversation ahead of them.

"He's a distant relative of mine," Draco replied casually, like it was no big deal. Hermione, however, had to disagree.

"He's a Malfoy?" she exclaimed in surprise. "But how come we have never heard of him? And neither you nor Narcissa have ever mentioned his name."

Draco shrugged again.

"Perhaps this is what his status of an eremite means – that people never talk about him. The family wasn't very happy about his choice either, and in their shame they kept quiet about it. I mean, what a waste of a son it would be, if he decided at one moment to get away from everyone he knew and go live in some faraway desolated place."

_At least he didn't marry a Muggle-born,_ Hermione almost said, but managed to keep herself back.

"If he's an eremite," she asked instead, "then what are we doing here? I thought they wouldn't let anyone visit them."

"He's not very keen on company either," Draco smirked. "But I convinced him to make an exception for us."

"Why?" As much as Hermione loved and appreciated this place, she couldn't realize the reason behind them being here. There was no need, was there? Except for the healing and relaxing aura of the garden perhaps. Wait a second, could that have been the reason? Had he brought her here because he knew that it would be easier for her to hear the things he had to tell her in a place like this?

"Because of the garden?" she suggested, feeling the need to keep back her tears despite the atmosphere. Merlin knows how much trouble he had to go through to persuade an eremite to let them use his garden so that it would be easier for her! It meant that he still cared for her, and although that idea made her happier, it made her sadder as well. Because if he cared then this was going to be rather hard for him, too, and she didn't want to cause him more pain than she already had.

"Garden?" he repeated, as if the idea had surprised him. "We are certainly going to use the garden as well, but that was not the main reason. The main reason why I brought you here is..."

Damn him and his dramatic pauses!

"What?" she prompted with a mix of apprehension and curiosity.

But he kept quiet and tortured her for a long moment, staring deeply into her eyes with an unfathomable look.

"The main reason why I brought you here," he continued at last, smirking at her impatience, "is that in addition to an eremite, Eleseus is also a Mage."

His smirk turned into a little cryptic smile now, and he was looking at her as if some realization was going to hit her any moment now.

Hermione waited for it, but nothing came. Eleseus was a Mage. They were here because Eleseus was a Mage. She pondered about the piece of news, giving it a look from every possible angle, but still her brain made no connection whatsoever. Eleseus was a Mage. So what?

She said as much, and had him laugh at her. Which wasn't so bad at all, especially when compared to that emotionless cold voice he had used on her when she had told him the truth; and it was also better than the unbearable awkward silence they managed to create these days. But now she was curious, impatient, and didn't really appreciate him laughing at her, when he could give her the explanation she craved for instead.

Although, it did feel good to hear him laugh.

"What? I don't get it," she spoke at last, when he was done with his laughter and was giving her that look again.

"Think about it, Hermione. What does a Mage do?"

"A Mage conducts ceremonies," she replied at once. "All kinds of Wizarding ceremonies, like funerals, and weddings, and... and..."

And then the realization hit. For a moment she stared at him in shock, rather certain that she had misunderstood, and searching for any clue from his eyes that would tell her that. Yet she found none, at least not those contradicting her. There were those confirming her, though. But she was still unable to believe. Because... because... Because, damn it! Because it simply couldn't be. Because all the signs had been against it. His behaviour in the hospital, and his words in the little cabin in the Alps, and everything. This simply couldn't be. It simply could not be.

Hermione sharply turned her head. It didn't help, though – all the ideas and thoughts and realizations were still there in her mind. So she jumped to her feet and took a few steps away from the fountain. She didn't know why she thought **that** would help, but this was all she could do, short from running away. And there was no way she was going to run away this time.

"No," she said suddenly, and in her frazzled state of mind completely missed his sharp intake of breath. But before he managed to throw all his pride to the wind and start begging, which he would have done because this was much more important than anything else, including his pride, she opened her mouth again to add, "You can't mean it."

Draco, realizing that he had mistook her rejection, couldn't help a sigh of relief, and leaving his place by the fountain as well, went to stand behind her, close but not touching, giving her the room he thought she needed.

"You didn't let me finish back at the cabin," he spoke. "You thought you knew what I was going to say, and perhaps I should have worded it better for not to cause you any more distress, but..."

"Say it, say it now," Hermione whispered, not noticing the tears running down her cheeks.

"Would you look at me?" he implored, and she complied without hesitation because this was the moment, and he was going to tell her, and she was ready. Whether her earlier realization had been correct or not, she was ready. She was there, and he was there, and this time she was not going to run away.

Seeing the tears on her cheeks he now reached out to brush them off, and even when it was done he didn't remove his hands from her face. She was looking him straight in the eye, and he could read everything she was feeling at the moment from her expression or from her eyes. There was pain, there was hope, there was fear, and there was, of course, love. And he couldn't keep her in the dark for any longer, dramatic pauses be damned!

"Hermione," he spoke, "I can't deny that you did hurt me, but neither can I deny that there are some things much more painful than what you did to me. And one of them would be living without you. And I don't want that to happen, not when I can stop it. Because you are my life, Hermione, my world, my everything. Because I love you, and couldn't live without you."

For one long moment she stared at him, motionless, and for one long moment he feared that perhaps he had gone too far this time and lost her for good. But then she smiled, and then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and suddenly he had to repress his own tears.

Hermione, however, was done with repressing anything, not that she would have been able to, even if she wanted. But she didn't want because the tears she cried now were of pure happiness. Because all of her bad feelings had been suddenly replaced with good ones; because she was happy and overjoyed and happy. Because all her dreams had suddenly become true, and all of a sudden she had everything she could ever wish for. Because she had him, and she was never ever ever going to let him go.

"Will you forgive me?" she whispered, warm and safe and happier than ever before standing in his embrace.

"I already have," he replied, kissing her forehead lightly. "Will you forgive me? For putting you through all this, for leaving you in the first place, for not finding you afterwards?"

"There's nothing to forgive," she smiled through her tears of happiness. "I love you."

"And I love you."

For a while they stood in silence, but it was a good silence, the best there could be. She could faintly hear the water of the fountain over the beating of his heart, faintly recognize the breeze on her face over his warm breath, faintly smell the thousand exotic scents over the one that was purely him. Faintly feel anything else but him, and her love for him, and his love for her. And her joy. Her endless boundless overflowing joy.

Yes, the garden was especially beautiful today.

He broke the silence first.

"Will you marry me?"

"You have already asked me this," she chuckled.

"I know. Will you?"

"Yes."

"That's good," he smiled. "I'll get Eleseus." But he made no attempt to let go of her, and so they stood there for a little longer.

"Mother is going to have both of our heads if we do this without her," Hermione said at last.

"We don't have to, you know. We can go back and we can have everything we had in the first place. All our friends, and ice sculptures, and a lot of people, and the media, although it might be hard to convince everyone that this time we are going to do it for real."

She laughed at that.

"No. Let's do it here and now. This place is perfect, and I have got everything I need."

"If that's what you want," he concurred.

"All I want is you," she said, looking him in the eye. "Can I have you?"

"But you already do," he replied, and kissed her.

---

Narcissa was that close to a nervous breakdown, and she knew it. But she was not going to cross that border before finding at least one of them. She knew she should have warded the room before leaving, but she hadn't, and now they were both gone. Again.

She had every intention to hex the first to return into the next century. At least as long as the first one to return was Draco. Oh, she was really going to show him this time. Show him what happened to boys who didn't listen to their mother and didn't marry the girl she was determined to have as her daughter-in-law, and the mother of her grandchildren. Oh, she was going to show him.

She had even got herself some back-up, in case he felt like disappearing again at the sight of his very, very, very angry mother. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hannah were doing all they could at the moment to calm Narcissa down, although Hannah was getting almost as hysterical as Mrs. Malfoy now, and had to be calmed down herself. Yet the rest of them did their best, even though it was no help at all. Narcissa was determined to be hysterical, and show her son exactly what she thought of his behaviour the moment he decided to return. She was so angry at him that even Ron felt a bit sorry for Malfoy. Of course, most of his attention went to calming down his own girlfriend, giving him little time to worry about anyone else.

"I'm sure they are going to come back very soon," Ginny said for the thousandth time, forcing her voice calm and soothing, even though she was getting rather irritated by the situation herself. It wasn't only that they had to calm down someone who was determined not to calm down, but it was getting harder and harder to remain calm and optimistic themselves while the woman went on describing just how fragile and broken Hermione had been before leaving.

"She looked rather fine to me," Harry tried to argue, even though the note of doubt was audible in his voice.

"Of course she **looked** fine to you!" Narcissa exclaimed. "That's because I forced her to take a rest before coming to visit you! If only you could have seen her before – so tired, so exhausted, so desperate. You should have seen the way she looked in the hospital – cried herself to sleep in my arms. I'm sure she might have **looked** fine to you, but I can tell when she is fine, or just trying with all her might not to break apart. I can tell the difference, and I can tell you she was not fine!!!"

"Erm," was the only reply Harry managed to give, taking a backwards step, and looking around the room for the quickest way of escape. Ron and Hannah had already slipped away somewhere, and he couldn't but think how fortunate they were because of it.

"I'm sure they'll come back soon," Ginny spoke, grabbing Harry's arm at the same time to stop him from escaping and leaving her all alone with a hysterical Narcissa Malfoy. "I'm sure they just went to someplace they could be alone, someplace they could talk to each other without any interruptions."

"They could have talked here!" she screeched, sounding much like a banshee. "And even so, they really should be back already. They have been gone for hours. Hours!"

"They have much to talk about."

"No, they don't. He either gets his wits around and apologizes to her, or he will continue acting like a total idiot and push her even further away. Either case, it's the matter of minutes, not hours."

"Perhaps," Ginny said and thought fast, "perhaps they just need a moment together alone. Or perhaps they are discussing some other things that need to be discussed with their decision."

"Like what?" Narcissa snapped at her.

"Like... their future. Arrangements of all sorts. And things like that."

"Arrangements?" Narcissa's voice was dangerous. "Like living arrangements?"

"Maybe..."

"If he does not apologize to her and take her back like he ought to, I am going to show him. But if he thinks, even for the briefest of moments, that he can kick her out of the house just because he is the greatest fool in the world, there is going to be some serious kicking and kicking out for him, and him alone!"

"Threatening me once again, Mother?" an amused voice asked, and as all three turned around in surprise, they could see the flames at the fireplace burning emerald, and Draco stepping out of them.

There was a moment of silence when everyone tried to adjust to what their eyes were seeing, and Harry tried to slip out of the room unnoticed, a great plan which didn't work because Ginny was still holding on to him, and refusing to move.

"That's right, Draco," Narcissa advanced on her son, looking as ominous as she could manage. "And this time I am going through with every little threat I have ever bestowed upon you."

"And why would you do that, Mother?" he inquired with nonchalance, as if there was nothing frightening about the situation or the woman seething with rage in front of him.

"Don't you dare play games with me," she warned. "I specifically forbid you to leave this room before you have talked your things out. And what did you do? You left me for hours to worry on my own! You didn't tell me where you were going, or when you would come back, or anything else! You just left without saying a word! You are a devilish little boy, and you will be punished for it. This time for real."

Harry would have laughed at such words had he been seeing this from some faraway place, or hearing someone tell the story. But now and here, there was nothing funny about it. Nothing funny whatsoever. Of course, it could have been worse. As it was probably going to get, once Mrs. Malfoy decided to introduce them as her back-up. Right now, neither mother nor son were paying any attention to them, and Harry dearly hoped it would stay that way until he could manage to convince Ginny that the only thing they should do at the moment was to run for their lives.

"I'm sure you are right and we have been naughty, naughty children," Draco began with a smirk.

"But perhaps," Hermione continued, emerging from the fireplace as well, "you might consider doing it **after** we have delivered the good news."

"Good news?" Narcissa frowned.

"Yes, Mother," Draco nodded. "Remember, you ordered us to bring back good news. So in fact it's actually your fault we were gone for so long. I suppose we could have come back earlier, or never left at all, but there was the issue of those good news we needed, so we had to go and get them."

Narcissa was still frowning, suspicious that he was saying all this only to calm her down. But Hermione was there as well, and looking rather fine, and this time not only **looking** rather fine. She really seemed to be all right, so perhaps...

"Let's hear your good news then," she said at last, her tone and expression very clearly ending the sentence with 'and let's see what it's worth of'.

"Well, the thing is," Hermione began, but didn't quite get to finish.

"Wait!" Ginny exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention to her. But she didn't seem to mind it.

"Hold that thought for a moment," she hastily explained to her friend. "I'll go and find Ron and Hannah. Merlin knows they need some good news right now."

When she had rushed out of the room, Hermione gave Harry a questioning look, and either finding encouragement from her expression or thinking himself doomed in any case, he told her the truth about his presence.

"We were sort of a back-up," he told her. "In case Mrs. Malfoy really needed to show her son for good."

He was half-afraid Draco might curse him at that, but he did the exact opposite by bursting into joyful laugher.

"You brought Potter and his friends here to kick my ass, Mother? You really outdid yourself this time."

It was said with good humour and amusement, but Narcissa still felt the need to be insulted. Or at least pretend to be insulted.

"I simply needed to be sure you wouldn't be making another hasty exit," she shot at him coldly, turning her head sharply away as if she couldn't bear the sight of him at the moment.

But Draco, who knew his mother well enough to realize when she was being sincere and when pretending, only laughed at this, and winked at the baffled Harry, who got even more confused by that.

Hermione looked from one person to another, trying to figure out what she should say, and who she should say it to. In the end she picked Harry, and moved closer to him.

"I'm really glad you are here," she said, and smiled happily.

"I'm glad you are here, too," he answered after a moment, and gave a small smile back to her.

"I'm really glad you are here!" Hermione exclaimed at that, and engulfed him into a hug, which he did return, despite his growing confusion.

Both Narcissa and her son were staring at the pair now, the former rather surprised, and the latter smirking in amusement. This lasted until Hermione finally let Harry go, and a second later Ginny re-entered the room, her face a bit redder than it should have been from her running around the Manor.

Harry noticed this just like everybody else.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern, stepping closer to his wife. "Where are Ron and Hannah?"

"Nothing," Ginny answered too quickly and blushed even deeper. "They will be here any moment now. They just have to... erm... get dressed first."

"Get dressed?" Harry asked in puzzlement. "But why would they need to get dressed?"

Ginny only glared at him, while Hermione's smile widened with realization.

"Does this mean he finally proposed to her?" she inquired enthusiastically.

"I don't know. Probably," Ginny replied. "Although I didn't really got to ask because I was too busy covering my eyes and screaming. It seems that they weren't in as great of a need for good news as we thought, apparently."

Hermione laughed at that, and so did Draco; Harry looked like he would have been much happier without that knowledge, Ginny was still disturbed by what she had walked in on, and as happy as Narcissa was for those two, she was more concerned about the current situation of another couple. Especially the fact whether they could be called a couple any more.

It didn't take too long until Ron and Hannah made it into the room, and although Ron's ears were more crimson than ever before, Hannah seemed to have calmed down at last. There was also this little satisfied smile on her face, which in addition to Ron's blush would have made their previous activities clear to everybody even without Ginny's information.

"We're here," Ron announced. "We were just... erm..."

"Looking around the house!" Hannah exclaimed. "Yes, that's it. And it's a very beautiful house, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Thank you, dear," Narcissa nodded at her, thinking that a bit of good manners wouldn't hurt anyone in such a situation.

"Yes, the house is alright. But we are here now, and Ginny—" he blushed at the mention of his sister "—said you had something to tell us."

"We do," Hermione nodded, stepping closer to the newcomers. "But do you have something to tell us, as well?"

Both Ron and Hannah blushed at this, and though the latter fidgeted for a while longer, she simply couldn't keep such news to herself.

"We're engaged!" the girl exclaimed, jumped into the air, and gave Hermione a tight embrace, only to let go after a second, and run to do the same to everyone else in the room.

"That's fantastic!"

"Congratulations, Hannah. Ron."

"It was about time, too."

"Finally, Ron, finally!"

"I'm very happy for both of you. But I would be even happier if we could stop the hugging and screaming for a moment now so that Hermione and Draco could tell us their good news."

With a grin Hannah ran back to Hermione and hugged her again.

"Oh, you are back together! That's fabulous! I was going to ask you to be my bridesmaid, but this way we could have a double wedding! Wonderful idea, isn't it?"

Hermione received a mental image of two rows of ice-sculptures and a bunch of twittering and frazzled balls of nerves fussing around both her and Hannah, which gave her shudders.

She pulled away from the other girl and quickly shook her head.

"No double wedding."

"But..." Hannah started and then stopped, a look a horror cascading over her face. "But you are going to get married, aren't you?"

Hermione sent a quick look to Draco, who was standing a few steps behind them and smiling at her, then turned back to the girl.

"No, not really."

A moment of silence. And then...

"I am going to kill you, Draco Lucius Malfoy. This time you will not escape, this time I am really going to have your head!"

"Suit yourself, Mother," Draco replied with a smirk, as Narcissa was already waving her wand threateningly at him. "Kill me if you want your dear Hermione become a widow at such young age."

"You can talk and smirk all you want, Draco, but this time it is not going to save you from my... What?"

Narcissa halted in her words and movement, standing perfectly still for a moment and staring at her son, then turning around and looking to Hermione instead.

The girl smiled at her.

"Well, yes," she said. "We got married."

Another quiet moment before the storm.

"Hermione, dear!"

"You got married?"

"You got married without us???"

"Hannah, love, are you alright? You look a bit pale... aaah!"

Everybody had a lot to say, except for Hannah who had fainted, but luckily caught by her fiancé and now resting in his arms. When all the screaming had finally ended, although it took enough time for Hannah to recover and join in, all the congratulations given, all the questions asked and answered, and everyone's indignation expressed for not being invited to the ceremony, Hermione was finally able to make another announcement.

"Thanks for your warm wishes, everybody. I'm so happy you were here and could be happy with me and for me. Congratulations again to Ron and Hannah, you are perfect for each other! Well, we better get going now."

"Go? Where?" five people shouted at once.

"Where do you think?" Hermione smiled at them, while Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind, and rested his chin upon her shoulder, kissing her neck lightly.

"Honeymoon, of course," she answered her own questions and threw her head back to laugh, also giving him better access to her neck.

"Get a room!" Ron finally exclaimed, when the display was getting a bit too much for his comfort.

"Only not the one at the end of the left-hand hallway!" Hannah added, then blushed.

Narcissa simply stared at them, tears of happiness in her eyes.

"Erm, perhaps we should go?" Harry suggested.

"No way!" Ginny exclaimed. "You two better control your carnal urges for another couple of hours because we are going to throw you a party, whether you like it or not."

Saying that she jumped off the couch and started firing off instructions.

"Hannah, go tell Susan about this. Ron, you handle all our family and friends. Harry, come with me, we will summon everybody else. Narcissa, stay here and make sure that this time they will stay in this room. All right, people, time to act. Up-up-up, go-go-go, we don't have a moment to spare!"

---

"We really should have owled them, shouldn't we?" Draco asked, sitting on the living-room's couch with his wife in his arms, playing with her hair and placing soft kisses on her neck and cheeks.

This time Narcissa had taken all the precautions to keep them from leaving the room. She had shut down the Floo connection, modified the wards to block any kind of Apparition, closed all the windows and door with powerful spells, and taken both their wands away as well. This time they really had been locked in, and had no way of getting out on their own.

"How long do you think it will take them to get everything ready?" Hermione wondered. She didn't really mind the party, but she would have rather postponed it for about two weeks or so. Because as nice as it was to chat and drink and laugh with all her friends, there was something else she would have rather done at the moment.

There must have been something in her tone because Draco stopped his caresses and raised a brow at her.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, and there was definitely something in **his** voice.

"Well," she said and smirked. "As everybody seems to have gone away and left us all alone, we should think out a way to entertain ourselves."

"And what would that be?" he inquired, eyes dark with desire.

"Oh, I'm sure we could come up with something."

And they did.

"You do realize," Draco said after a while, sounding slightly breathless, "that all our friends and family can walk into here any moment now."

But this was more of a statement than a warning because he made no attempt to stop what he was doing. Not that she wanted him to.

"Well," she forced herself to say and not scream it, "it's going to be their own fault for not knocking."

"I like the way you think," he breathed into her ear.

"And I like the way you feel, and taste, and..."

---

Removing herself from the door, Narcissa cast a quick Imperturbable Charm on it, then after a moment's though, added a Silencing Spell as well. With a smile on her face she went into the entrance hall, to wait and greet the first guests to arrive, and to take them into the back yard for the party. Once everybody was here and the party in full swing, she would go back and knock.

**_The End._  
**

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**Note #2: **Ah, I wish I had that house with the magical garden. Speaking about that garden, I wanted to end the story right there and then, and I still think it would have been a beautiful ending, but for the love of Salazar, I simply couldn't leave hysterical Narcissa out of it. ;)

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